Someday
by ellisbell1918
Summary: Bella is a Parisian girl with no family to speak of, while Edward is an aristocrat's son-well liked, talented, handsome, and intelligent. Set in the French. Rev. of 1789, the two meet and sparks fly, though they might not know it; all human, ExB
1. Chapter 1

So, although I have a FF that I have NOT finished, I've decided I don't really like it. I might take it down, sorry to those of you who do. However, this one I will be trying to update regularly. I don't have a ton of time on my hands due to school, but if you want me to continue please RxR! It's much appreciated. This is technically my second FF by the way, so be nice please. I haven't creatively written in a long, long time. Suggestions are welcomed too! Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Twilight, and obviously do not own the French Rev. history stuff, although I do love both!

**Someday**

**Chapeter 1**

BPOV

The sky had faded to a dusty grey, and the Seine was lulling against the shore. My fingers clasped the small, warm roll in their grasp, savoring the softness, the steam framing my face against the crisp wind. Once upon a time, when Paris wasn't hungry, and the pubs didn't teem with the whispers of a revolution, this is what my home would have smelt of—warm bread, and love. But I don't think about the what if's. They hurt. They're the one thing the freezing nights won't numb.

I try to not scarf down the bread, knowing that it will be the only piece I get for a while, but I can't help it, and the whole thing ends up getting shoved into my mouth, because I'm starving. The whole city is. My eyes wander to the stars, and I catch myself wondering what's really up there. My father used to say that God's eyes were the stars, that He was always watching out for people like us—the small, the unimportant. And then mother would hit him upside the head, give him a peck on the cheek maybe, chiding him. Because there was no one more important than our family to her. I wonder what they would say now, knowing that their daughter was living under the awnings of artisan's shops, earning little money to live off of; apparently the people of France aren't interested in the paintings of a girl.

My feet, now cold from dangling in the water, scramble up onto the cobblestoned streets. Thinking of my family makes me melancholy, depressed. But it makes me want, too. I hunger not just for fruit, for bread, but for love. I want companionship, because trust me, the drunkards, prostitutes, and the gamblers, they aren't enough for a girl who spent her time gazing at the lovers who roamed the streets and was taught the stories of Romeo and Juliet, of Ophelia, and of lovesick Helena. That all-consuming affection that drives people mad, and makes them smile with the stars in their eyes is all I've ever wanted. Nothing more.

The night has veiled Paris now, my eyes growing heavy of their own accord. Sleeping under a bridge isn't what I want, but it'll have to do; the streets are unkind to a young girl at night. Pont Nuef isn't far off, usually I can find some company there to make the dark less unbearable. Wandering off in that direction, I pull my tattered volume of Shakespeare out of the small bag that has survived all of these years, flipping to the much bookmarked page of _A Midsummers Night Dream_—I need something relatively pleasant right now.

I make it to the bridge unbothered, clambering to the path underneath the grand structure. I glance around, looking for the one person I can trust in this mad city.

"Bella!"

A slightly grimy, thin girl pops up next to me, her eyes sparkling in excitement.

"Hello, Angela." I smile at her, but I don't think it meets my eyes.

"Bells, is…is something bothering you again? You know you can tell me, I wouldn't tell a soul."

Although I've known Angela for years now, and despite the fact that she's the one person tolerates me, I've never told her everything about me…about my family. As far as knows, something's always bothering me, and I feel a moment's sadness. How I would like to trust someone.

"No, no!" I wave my hands limply at my sides, dismissing some of the tension, "I'm sorry. I just didn't finish that painting today, and of course I didn't sell any again. The usual, I promise you, don't worry. Just me, plain old, boring Bella." I really hope I'm not rambling.

She cocks her eyebrow, looking me up and down, her mouth settling into a grim smile.

"Alright," there's a tone of finality, and I know I don't need to explain tonight, "Well, I put my bag over in that corner again, so I figure we can just stay there for tonight."

My eyes do a once over of the slimy, mildew covered corner that has been my bed for the past year, and my heart aches just a little more.

"Thanks, Ang. I'm really tired out too, so I think it would be best just to sleep. Is that alright—" I'm cut off by my long yawn.

"Sure, Bella."

I nod, and stumble over, not bothering to see if she follows. I don't want to talk anymore tonight—I never do. Puck, in all his glory, has not managed to cheer me up for once, and so I gingerly put the volume back into my bag, saving it from the filth under me. I hear Angela noisily searching for god knows what in her sack, and I thank the heavens she doesn't push me to talk. I shut my eyes, and dream that maybe tomorrow, that the Queen will give the people of Paris bread, that someone will buy all my paintings, that I will be sleeping on a down mattress instead of cold stone, and that maybe, someday, maybe someone will be able to love me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or the French Rev.**

**So…I got some positive feedback on the first, very short, chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read it, and liked it, especially the reviewers! I haven't exactly planned out what I want to do with this story, but I think I like what I have so far. Let me know, again, if you have ideas, or if you just want to review, please do! I wrote this today (my holiday break has started, so I have a TON of time on my hands), and I hope it doesn't seem too hurried. Again, I haven't written in a while, so sorry if it **_**is**_** a bit fast paced. Just let me know! RxR, hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 2

The smell of oil paint permeated the air as my brush moved in swift strokes across the canvas. Poor or not, I would always find the money for my trade; there was nothing for me to love more. As I mixed pigments, I gazed ahead at the scene in front of my eyes—the Palais-Royal in all its glory. Although at dusk, lanterns and candles allowed for wonderful lighting, illuminating the shops, pubs, and gardens. People were milling around, and I struggled to capture the movement in the composition. Here and there, prostitutes sold their wares in the darkened alleys, and ladies strolled, gossiping. A grimy young boy shouted from the corner, waving a newspaper above his head. So caught up was I in the simple complexity of the setting, that I didn't notice them at first.

The small group of aristos sat quaintly at the table of a café, lunching. My mouth watered, and I clutched at my stomach to stifle the rumbling as I watched the bigger one—muscled up like the butcher across the street—devour a pie, I could only assume meat from the steam wafting out of it. But the food wasn't what caught my eye, though it was a close second. What got me was the unnatural beauty that these people exuded.

The two women, although dressed in the gaudy ruffles, curls, and drooping necklines of the time, clearly were the stand out beauties of the crowd, though one short and elfin, while the other statuesque and graceful. I couldn't help but admit my jealousy as I stippled on the detailing in their dresses and faces; there would never be a time where I could look as such, being as plain as I was.

The three men of the group were a different matter altogether. The first I had noted before, brawny and big, seemed the most boisterous, waving his hands with expression. The second, leonine and appearing quiet, sipped from his coffee with an air of nonchalance that rivaled the King. As my eyes turned to the last member of their group, I felt my face heat from my neck to my hairline. I quickly ducked, hiding my face behind a thick curtain of hair. The term Adonis would not have been proper, for he was far more handsome. A shock of bronze hair and deep green eyes stood out, making his surroundings dull immensely at his presence.

I watched my hand tremble for a second before I dipped my brush into the green oils, swirling the tip around. There wasn't any way I could get this right. No matter the other four, I could simplify their features. But he had to be perfect.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I realized just how dark it had become as I had been ogling them. I hadn't realized in my painting that my objects of focus had left either. I would have to finish this one tomorrow, and although I should be upset, it made me a bit happier. It meant I could come back, perhaps see them again. It meant I was crazy.

Packing up my brushes, I shoved the first items that fit into my bag, and tucked the almost dry canvas under my arm. My feet tangled around the legs of my stool, sending my handful of brushes flying. As I scampered down onto my knees to pick them up, I knocked into person's shins, effectively spilling out everything I had just packed up. I huffed, and got down on my knees again, scrambling for everything under the table.

Damn klutz.

"You know, you could watch out where you're walking!" I muttered, pausing to look up at the offender.

My breath stopped for a second, and I clutched at my throat, flushing.

I was looking up into the brightest pair of green eyes that the heavens had created.

My hands started moving double time as I crammed everything back into the bag, and grabbed my painting. He was just standing there, staring at me.

Jumping to my feet, I shoved past him, grumbling to myself again. I had to get out of here before I hurt someone other than myself.

And then he grabbed my shoulder.

"Pardon me," His voice was soft, deep, and sent shivers down my spine.

I shook my shoulder free of his hand sighing, and looked back.

"What?" my voice was a tad more irritable than I would have liked.

He raised his hand in the air, pausing, before it shot out and snatched the painting from under the crook of my elbow. I gasped, clutching at thin air. Nervously glancing over my shoulder, I could see his party meandering towards us.

"Did you paint this?" His eyes searched mine, and I couldn't place the look in them.

"Um…uh…"

My heart beat like a horse's hooves in my chest, my face heating once again.

He raised his brows, most likely questioning my mental faculties. I didn't blame him.

I tried to clear my throat, and met his gaze again. It sounded like I was choking.

"_Oui_, _monsieur_."

"It's very well done_, mademoiselle_," he smirked.

"Thank you." My tone turned curt—I didn't like people mocking me, and never had.

I grabbed the painting from him, looking down my hands, searching for words and still blushing. I felt like I should make up for my rude demeanor. My mind worked in circles, and damn this man for disturbing it.

He chuckled, his gaze shifting over my shoulder, no doubt at his friends, and then back to my face.

I was suddenly very aware of the grime that covered my cheeks, my hair, and the coating of paint on my fingers and shirt. Biting down on my lip, I glanced up at him quickly, and then looked towards the Palais, the crowd.

"I have to go, sir," I mumbled, worrying my lip with my teeth more in anxiety, "And I'm sure you'll want to get back to your...your friends." I shifted uncomfortably. I didn't _want_ to leave…which worried me.

When he didn't reply, I nodded quickly in acknowledgment in his general direction, not looking back at his face, and scurried off towards the crowd, mentally cursing myself for general lack of tact.

As I reached the edge of one of the shops, my eyes wandered over to where they were all gathered. He seemed to be saying something to the smaller lady as she grinned up at him. The other girl—tall and blonde—looked in my general direction and gave me what could only be described as a scowl. My eyes went wide in confusion, and I hiked my bag further over my shoulder and scurried off towards the center of the crowd, pushing and shoving until I was good and lost in the chaos of drunkards and their women.

The sun was gone now, and my stomach rebelled against my rapid pace. There hadn't been any food today—I had nothing to sell. The tattered jacked that I clutched to my frame was nothing against this cold wind, and my hair was tangled beyond repair. I would have to find somewhere to bathe soon. I blinked ruefully as I felt my eyes tear up. No wonder I wasn't anything special.

I never felt pity for myself; I had figured out a long time ago that my parents wouldn't have wanted that for me, and it also didn't help in the slightest. It just made the scurrying of the rats and the hell hole that I lived in more unbearable. Yet now, as I remembered the fineries, and the food, and the ease with which the five seemed to live, a sudden wave of jealously overcame me. Maybe even anger. That blonde woman, she had no right to glare at me so. I should have been the one scowling at her, and hating her for her fortune. Those spoiled lapdogs of the state lived on cake, and I lived on the scraps of the people who put on vulgar plays and sold their bodies for money. It was disgusting. And so I pitied myself, despite my parent's wishes. How I loathed myself for it.

Angela didn't even try to talk about my reprehensible attitude that night. If she had, I don't know what I would have said. There was no feasible reason for me to hate the five aristos—jealously was one thing, but hate was a different demon in its entirety. I especially didn't want to hate the beautiful bronze haired man, with his enigmatic eyes, his boyish face, and his seemingly amiable demeanor. But I could see it was in vain. Of course I would hate him.

**So she met Edward as you can see! Yes or no? I'll try to update ASAP! Till later :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own Twilight or the French Rev.**

**So, here's chapter 3! It's actually Edward's POV of chapter 2…but I'm just going to count it as chapter 3. SanDiegoGal, just want to say thanks to your awesome reviews, and your idea to do an Edward's POV, because it was fun to write! So thanks! Hope you all enjoy, I know I did :)**

Chapter 3

EPOV

"Edward, I think she fancies you," Alice's smirk grew more pronounced as a scantily clad prostitute batted her ridiculously long eyelashes in my general direction; disgusting. I felt my face heat, and cleared my throat at the awkwardness. My little sister _did not_ need to see this sort of thing.

I cleared my throat and my eyes narrowed of their own accord, "Shush up, Al. You're just jealous Jasper never looks at you like that."

She gasped, her eyes flitting towards said man, and Rose knocked into my arm with a playful shove.

"No need to tease the poor girl, Edward."

I snickered again, shaking my head, and turned my attention towards the croissant I was currently mutilating. Bread was expensive; it didn't take a genius to see that. I could pity the people around us who looked at our table with a deserving hatred in their eyes; they probably hadn't seen half a decent meal in years. But honestly, I wasn't hungry.

Gazing around, I couldn't help but give a small grin at the homely chaos around the Palais. Everyone was welcome here, not with open arms, but it was still a place where the good-for-nothings and the people like my family and I could congregate together. Although the home of the Duc d'Orléans, the grounds and the gardens of the Palais housed hundreds of shops and cafés open to the people of the city. Sunlight frequented on this cobblestoned street more than it kept company at Versailles, and sophistication and vulgarity were close friends in the salons, coffeehouses, and most frequently, at the Théâtre du Palais-Royal on the rue Montpensier. All the frivolity, drunken laughter, and smells of grime, ladies' perfume, and gin only solidified my feeling of comfort in the middle of a sort of lazy bedlam, for here was the place in all of Paris where one could smile and mean it.

Yet, with all of that, you couldn't help but notice what all of this sort of playing and freethinking hid. In the next alley over even, young women who were trying to feed crying little brothers and sisters openly sold themselves, covered in dirt and filth from sleeping in the sewers that reeked of waste and blood from the butchers. A homeless elder sold moth eaten cloth and would show you his battle scars for a sou or two; the families that made the bread but couldn't afford to eat it rented a bed under the shadows of the tallow factories that leeched out death inducing fumes like the Grim's tenacious fingers.I didn't want to see my home in such disorder, in truth, I was disgusted more than a bit when the carriage drove through such areas (which was most of Paris, to be quite frank). And my family wondered why I rarely left the château; there were no virtues left hidden in the dank corners of the city.

If I was being honest with myself, today was one of the first days I had left the confines of the estate at all. Carlisle's medicinal training had been needed more and more as the days went on across Paris, and even outside of the city. After many exceedingly meager harvests it seemed the populous was finally feeling the worst of the effects and it would seem he was needed everywhere at once. I had been taking care of my mother, Esme, in his leave, and not letting her far from my sight—the same went for Alice. He had brought back news of disturbances around the countryside, nearing closer to home with each return it would seem; news of fights, of groups of men and women screaming for food, of whispers in the corners of pubs from Metz to Lyons.

Looking at my sister, I worried for her. Alice was strong, and I knew that, not to mention she had Emmett, Jasper and I to care for her every second. But if something happened in Paris, if this talk of change, of revolution, became a reality, I wasn't sure how she would fare. Rose would be fine, but Alice…I didn't always know.

She met my gaze and smiled, turning back to Jasper and giggling.

"Edward, what has you in such a mood?" Jasper winked, glancing back at Alice, "Do you see _nothing_ that pleases you?"

I tried not to hear the innuendo in his words as Emmett looked between us and waggled his eyebrows. My breath came out in a long sigh.

"Come now, Edward. Jazz is right, all this sulking—lighten up!" Alice threw a hunk of bread at my head, snickering into the back of her hand.

Her giggling intensified as I glared at her from under the mop of hair that had fallen in my face. I couldn't help smiling in return as I flicked a crumb in her direction.

"Children!" Rose shifted her expression to one of mock disappointment, pointing a finger at the two of us.

Alice and I glanced at one another, and then bombarded her with crumbs of all shapes and size, laughing like little kids.

She ducked behind Emmett, muttering to herself and shaking her head at us.

"Rose, darling, come out of there," He turned around, grabbed her, and sat her on his lap, his laugh booming off the walls around us.

"There's food. In. My. Hair."

I chuckled at her pout.

"So sorry, Rosalie. Really." I rolled my eyes, looking away.

My gaze roamed over the crowd as they kept bickering and giggling.

Later on I suppose, I could have said fate put her there, but I've never believed in such things, not really. She appeared out of nowhere it seemed, hunched over a canvas in such a defensive position it made my heart ache in a way I wasn't sure was possible. Tilting my head, I tried to see more of her face, her expression. I wanted to know her.

And then she looked up, her chocolate eyes drowning my mind.

I found I couldn't look away, not for the life of me. She was a small girl, weighed down by deep mahogany hair that might have reached her waist if not for the braid that draped itself over her shoulder. Her canvas covered obscured her from the shoulders down, making her appear to be hiding. She was beautiful, that couldn't be doubted, but that wasn't why I refused to break the connection; her eyes, so rich in color, held me with their emotion, even from a distance. I watched her draw in a breath, and her face turned the most perfect shade of pink as the girl dropped her eyes, looking down at the paint palette on her lap. But I kept staring.

Her head kept shifting up, like she wanted to look back, but she never did. Not once.

I watched her swirl her brush, her hair falling out of her braid and covering her face like a thick curtain, feeling the sudden urge to reach up and brush it away.

The chairs around scraped across the stone harshly as my family got up to leave, forcing my attention back to them. Suddenly the world wasn't so bright.

"Edward! Come on, _maman_ will be waiting. You know how she worries, especially now…" Alice let off at the end, raising her eyebrows as she grabbed Jasper's hand.

My eyes flitted back to the girl; she was shoving everything into a tattered sack at her feet in haste.

"Could you excuse me for a second?" I was already walking away, knowing they would be sharing questioning glances behind me.

My pace quickened with each brush she threw into her bag; I still was unsure as to what my intentions were. I just knew I had to talk to her…something.

I was about ready to make any excuse to hear her voice when she promptly bumped into my legs, sending all her belongings flying. Momentarily stunned, I looked down at her harried expression, and felt myself grinning like a fool as she blushed again.

_Say something, idiot._

But I couldn't form a coherent sentence. Not a damn one. And just as I opened my mouth to say god knows what, she jolted up, pushing past me into the crowd.

No way had I come over here to lose her like that; my hand reached out of its own accord, grabbing her shoulder and turning her to face me, sending my heart pounding again.

"Pardon me," Oh god, was that a voice crack?

She wouldn't even make eye contact, her gaze straying to my chest. Had I frightened her? Fear washed through my body at the thought of frightening someone so delicate. I looked down at her intently, urging her to stare back. I needed to see her eyes—they would speak the volumes of her emotion, something she would never willingly share with me. Of that I was sure.

She let out a heavy sigh and peered up at me, shaking herself free of my hand, which had turned from harsh to merely a hand lying limply on her shoulder; I shivered the smallest bit as her hair brushed my knuckles.

"What?"

There was no fear there at all! It was anger, irritation…

I looked for something to say…anything at all to keep her talking. What could I ask her? What did she like? _I_ wanted to know….

The painting!

I grabbed it from under the crook of her elbow, trying to appear interested in the blend of colors, but all I really wanted to see was her face. I saw from over the top of the canvas her glancing over her shoulder, looking like a cornered kitten all over again. My family was slowly making their way towards us, I watched Alice giggle as she glanced over at me, whispering into Jasper's ear.

_Oh, lord._

Glancing back at the painting, I made my expression into one of deep interest.

"Did you paint this?"

_ Brilliant, Edward._

"Um…uh…"

There was that curious blush again. Did I do that?

My brow raised at the thought…it…it made me a bit smug if I was being honest with myself.

She coughed a little, looking up, her expression flustered.

"_Oui, monsieur_."

Monsieur? Monsieur was my father…I chuckled.

"It's very well done, _mademoiselle_,"

And there it was again, that unspoken anger on her face. Did I offend her now? First there was that enticing flush of her cheeks, suddenly replaced with a curt tone and fury that reminded me of a little kitten in her eyes.

"Thank you," she spat, snatching the painting back and gazing down at it…blushing…_again?_

Her eyes raked over my face as she bit her lip. The poor girl looked very ashamed all of a sudden, self-conscious even. There was also that ever present frustration hidden in the depths of her eyes as she looked around the Palais and the crowd.

This confounding creature would be the death of me.

"I have to go, sir," her goodbye came out in a soft mumble as she continued to worry her lip with little white teeth.

She looked up so quickly that I might have missed it if I wasn't paying attention, and then continued to peer around the street.

Looking for an escape? I sincerely hoped not…what I really wanted right now was to grab her hand and run away from Paris and all its madness.

…_What?_

I couldn't form a goodbye; it was stuck in my throat as my mind whirled around this new revelation.

_Take her away…with me?_

She turned on her heel and scampered away before I could say anything, and though my hand reached out to stop her again, it fell limply to my side as I saw Rose glaring over at me. What on earth was I going to tell my family?

Walking as casually as possible, I made my way over to them trying to rid my face of any embarrassing expression…I wasn't quite sure what my face looked like at the moment.

"Edward, stop dragging your feet and get over here! _Maman_ is waiting, and I'm quite sure Jessica has dinner all ready. It'll be _cold!_"

I had to roll my eyes at Emmett…only food would make him so impatient to get home. Well, that and Rosalie.

"Ed—"

"Alright Emmett! No need to cry. I'm sure Jessica would never do that to you!"

Alice, Jasper and I snickered under his glare. Ah, Emmett.

"I _was not_ crying," his pout rivaled Alice's, and I had to chuckle again.

Emmett's stare intensified, and Jasper held up a hand between the two of us, barely controlling a smile.

"Break it up, it's only dinner you two." He just shook his head as Emmett's eyes widened at his nonchalance.

They continued to banter as I looked over my shoulder towards the darkening café tables and street. Of course I couldn't see her, but I felt that she was probably there. I couldn't believe that I had frightened her so much that she had run off.

There had to be a way to see her again. Hell, I didn't even know her name.

"Edward! Rose won't be able to control Emmett if his dinner is actually cold by the time we reach home! Just warning you ahead of time," Jasper smirked, glancing back at my visibly impatient older brother.

I shook my head and sighed, following them to the carriage. Right now, I would gladly give up dinner to see that girl again.

I had to find out her name.

The entire ride, my thoughts were consumed by her eyes, her face, that personality that it seemed a person could never really understand. Perhaps, tomorrow, I could get everyone to agree to another trip to the Palais.

My mind immediately scratched that as I thought of them watching me from afar as I attempted to converse with her. It would be best just to go alone. I wasn't sure what I was going to say to her.

Picturing her again, I began to see things that had somehow escaped my notice earlier. Her clothing had been stained by oil paints, as had her hands as I recalled them flashing up to take back her painting. That face, so glowing at the time, was covered in grime, and that braid? Tangled…tousled about like a soft bush, tied by a tattered, blue ribbon. And it wasn't only the ribbon that looked about ready to fall apart. Her clothing—hell she was wearing _trousers—_was torn, although it looked as though she had tried to scrub it…possibly in the Seine, which to be honest, wouldn't have helped by a margin. Remembering her like this…I didn't even think she would want to talk to me again, the aristocrat who at more in one meal that she probably did in a fortnight.

Despite all of this, she was still utterly, terribly beautiful.

Although she may not want to talk to me again, I _needed_ to say something to her. Anything. She might even hate me, and probably did. But I just had to know her name. If she begged me to leave her alone, I could do that. I would force myself to let her be.

But I had to go back to the Palais-Royal tomorrow to see her. There wasn't a question of my staying home again.

**So what'd you all think? Please, pretty please press that little review button and let me know! Thanks! I'll be updating ASAP! Ta ta for now! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or any of the history…**

**Thank you for all the reviews everyone! I'm trying to do my best, I know this one took a tad longer. Sorry about that! Anyway I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 4

BPOV

I found myself back at the Palais, sitting at a small table with my painting set up before me, the scene almost entirely the same except for one thing.

The family of aristocrats wasn't here.

Although this disappointed me—I would have liked to give them more detail in my painting—what really got me down was the fact that the bronze haired man wasn't to be found. Even if he had come alone it would have been better than looking at a dirty, empty table. His presence was a massive reason for my return; I didn't have the smallest inkling why. Hell, I had even tried to make myself more presentable for today; I walked around Paris covered in dirt and god knows what else all the time, and I fit in perfectly with the rabble around me; if people couldn't feed themselves, there was no way they were lining up to buy little bricks of soap. Nevertheless, I had, for some reason, gone to the trouble of stealing two buckets of water from a battered, old well, and bathing in the frigid stuff. I had sat, in the darkness of the night, braiding my sopping hair and tying it with a less ruined ribbon that had been nicked from a small stall near Pont Neuf, then scrubbing my face with my hands until it felt raw. And the entire time, all I could see in my head was a pair of shining green eyes, telling me it was all worth it.

For some reason, this didn't bother me the slightest.

So here I sat, cleaner, maybe less smelly, but no less uncomfortable. The same drunkards cantered around the shops, cat calls echoing off the stone and the heavy musk of gin and Paris intermixing in the surrounding air. My fingers swirled the paint around in little patterns on my wooden palette, and I sighed looking at my work. It felt lacking, maybe in emotion; maybe in detailing…I wasn't even entirely sure what it needed. But it was flat, nonetheless.

Two hours continued to pass as I stared into space, trying to absorb my surroundings and force them into my brush. The sky darkened, and a cold wind swept through the crowd…winter was upon us, the frost coating the fields and glass windows; a cool reminder that Angela and I needed to find somewhere else to stay and fast, or we would be just like the people on the street I saw carted away every morning, blue and mottled, unmoving. Finishing this would be impossible when the feathery flakes descended like choking ash on the city.

_This is hopeless…_

I stared at the layers of paint on the canvas, searching for some little detail I had overlooked. The congealing oils offered no advice, merely attempting to suffocate me with their pungent odor. I shook my head, ridding my senses of the fumes, and threw my bundle of brushes into my bag—I would clean out the paint that was surely clotting on the bristles later. A heavy sigh left me as I took a departing glance of the pandemonium up and down the road.

"Still not done, I see," a deep voice laughed quietly from behind my chair.

My legs lifted me as if a fire had been set under my chair, knocking it to the ground as my face lit up like a flame. I stiffened my shoulders, biting down on my lip and blinking before whirling around with my painting and sack desperately grasped under my arm as always.

"You again," I muttered, clutching my belongings closer reflexively as I warily eyed his arm.

"Well _bonjour_ to you too. You look absolutely pleased to see me," his voice was like the velvet drapes over the Palias' windows as he scrutinized the chair I had successfully incapacitated.

Heavy sarcasm; my eyes narrowed.

_Breathe, Isabella. Don't hurt yourself…_

I huffed through my nose, and glanced at my bare feet before looking back up at him.

"Was there something you wanted, sir? I was just leaving…"

The breeze returned, reminding me of the chill that was soon to come and left my body with a slight shiver.

"I just, um, you know, wanted to see how the painting was coming along?"

Was that a question? He looked nervous somehow as he cleared his throat, grinning slightly and shook his head minutely.

"Right. Well, it's not finished yet, as you so aptly pointed out earlier," the sudden urge to stick my tongue out at him like the children I saw playing in the alleyways almost overtook me.

"Hmm…" he narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the sun, breathing down his nose with a frustrated sigh.

I cocked my eyebrow as a long, awkward silence nestled around us as my face got warmer and warmer, leaving my hands fidgeting around the strap of my bag and him looking terribly uncomfortable.

_But, lord, was he beautiful_.

I wanted him to look back down at me, to see those eyes; pools of green, of trust, of honesty…. My mind grappled with itself as I tried to come up with something to say. Anything. I cleared my throat out of reflex and stifled a small gasp as his eyes darted back to mine, sending my heart into a frenzy. My face, before warm, was now burning like a torch. Gulping, I opened my mouth.

"So…was there anything else I could…do for you?" I asked, internally cringing at my rhetoric skills.

_Nice one, Swan._

He smiled slightly, lifting his eyes to mine, pausing before he spoke.

"Well, I am very much interested in that…the painting," he nodded towards it, "And I was going to ask if…ifyouwantedtogetcoffee," his cheeks turned faintly pink.

I would have to expand my vocabulary, because 'beautiful' wasn't going to cut it any longer.

My brow shot up, and I stared at him before gathering my thoughts.

_Coffee…with me…to discuss…a…painting…_

I paused, momentarily stunned as he returned my gaze.

_ Speak Bella! _

"I, um, well yes. I don't see why not, sir," I was still gaping at him like a fool.

And then his mouth turned up in the most radiant grin that would put the King's ever-beaming children to shame, leading my open-mouthed stare to a full on ogle.

A deep chuckle escaped his throat and he shook his head, "Edward. Just…I'm Edward,"

_Edward…._

My face was a picture I'm sure as he held out my chair, nodding for me to sit. My bag found its way down my arm and landed by my feet as I sat, my mind whirling. Nobody had ever, and I mean _ever_ held out a chair for the likes of me, not even my…father. I pretended to itch my nose as my eyes teared up slightly at the common gesture.

"Coffee? A roll maybe?"

My head snapped up as he spoke, breaking my train of thoughts again. His eyes traveled over my slight frame as he asked and returned to my face with a knowing frown.

Like he actually…cared. My long dormant heart may have started to beat again.

"_Oui,_" I murmured, ducking my head.

He looked at my face for a second more before waving what seemed to be the café owner's daughter over. Her face appeared flustered as she hurried to our small table under the awning, eyes trained on the beauty that was Edward.

"_Monsieur _Cullen_?"_ she asked, her voice trembling slightly as a group of drunkards cat called from a farther off table.

"Two coffees and a roll if you could please. And…a small dish of sugar…yes I think that will be good," he smiled up at her, making her flush as she nodded, scampering off towards the café doors, her eyes flickering towards the drunk men not far off again.

"Poor girl," I glared at the offending men, my voice laced with pity.

Edward cocked his head to the side, his gaze confused.

"Why would you say that? She doesn't seem to be in a bad place, you know,"

My eyes went wide as they darted between his face and the men before I realized he probably couldn't and wouldn't understand what men like that could do to a girl like her, like me. _He_ didn't sleep on the streets every night, did he?

"Well," I cleared my throat, clasping my hands under my chin, "She can't very well tell her father to stop serving those men wine, or that she won't work anymore can she?" I nodded towards their table as Edward turned in his seat to watch one bother a passing lady while his companions muttered obscenities against the Queen.

"How often do you think someone grabs her, or takes pride in the fact that they can scare her?"

His eyes looked…almost…tender as he gazed at me, smiling gently at me as I continued to rant.

"In fact, I'm willing to bet on all my paintings that her father has her serve because he knows it improves business." I shook my head and frowned as I watched her hastening towards us, coffee and bread in hand.

Edward looked at her and back towards my face, opening his mouth to speak just as she reached us.

"Here you are," her voice was careful as she set the mugs and dish on the table softly, turning on her heel and dashing towards the next group.

I trained my stare on the food as Edward drank from his coffee, then setting it down with a quiet chink next to the plates.

The bread let out steam as he broke it in half, setting it on the dish and pushing it toward me; my mouth watered as the golden brown crust crumbled slightly onto the plate.

"Eat," he ordered softly, urging the plate closer.

But even as my stomach clenched in hunger, I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my torso tightly. I didn't want charity.

"I couldn't, please. The…the coffee is enough," my hand darted out to the hot mug, sloshing some of its contents onto the table.

"Eat," he repeated, leaning back in his chair, and grasping his own coffee.

The sunlight, now leaving shadows under each tree and building, caught his bronze hair and glinted. He ducked his head to his chest and looked at me from under his lashes, his eyes burning green and piercing.

"Please."

Oh lord, he was sublime.

Sighing, I reached forward and picked some of the soft bread from the roll and ate it. As it hit my hollow stomach, I grabbed the whole roll and began picking off pieces and eating until it was all gone. Never mind my coffee.

_Manners much?_

He chuckled and looked at my face as I blushed, tucking my braid behind my ear.

"Thank you, Edward," I looked up at him and smiled gently.

His eyes turned soft as I drank my coffee, sprinkling sugar in it.

"You're welcome….very much," he cleared his throat and paused before smiling back at me, "I'm sorry, but it seems I don't know your name yet and you know mine. Does that seem fair? You've even gotten a meal out of me!" his grin turned into a smirk as he raised his brow as his tone turned playful and dripped with sarcasm.

I giggled a little, clapping my hand to my mouth as the sound came out. I tried to pass it off as a cough.

"Well, no not really _Edward_. If you must know, people call me Bella," I replied somberly before snickering behind my hand, and his smirk turned into a grin.

"Bella," it came out so softly, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear it or not.

"My name is actually Isabella…but if you call me that I might have to destroy this painting you seem to enjoy so much," I gestured towards the canvas resting on top of my bag and raised my eyebrows.

"No!" He brought his hands to his mouth in a show of mock terror, looking between the painting and my face.

This time I didn't try to disguise my laughter as it rebounded off the walls around us.

He joined in, and for all I knew the angels could have been singing from the rafters of Notre Dame. Edward's laughter was like nothing I had ever heard, but I knew I wanted to keep hearing it as long as possible.

My laughter subsided to a giggle as I glanced up at him, taking in his sparkling eyes, his carved jawline, his nose with a small bump in it that I found absolutely adorable, his mouth…

I looked back at his eyes quickly, because thoughts like this weren't going to get me anywhere. There was ogling from afar and dreaming, and then there was getting close. Getting to know someone. I was dangerously close to crossing that line between our spheres, one thing I couldn't do. Not me. He deserved better, and I didn't deserve him—not his kindness, his friendship, his…

_Worthless…_

My father's face vigorously fought its way into my thoughts, leering and unforgiving.

I gasped and blinked, coughing and standing up. I had to get out of here before the tears came. I could feel them burning their path up my throat, behind my eyes. The urge to flee spread from my heart to my limbs as I snatched my belongings from under the seat.

"Bella?" my eyes darted up to his before returning to my shaking fingers.

I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration; one moment it was all laughter and smiles and warmth and the next…well the next was reality.

Edward Cullen deserved better than a girl that slept in mold and who was too afraid to dream.

"I..I should go….h-home," I cringed internally at the word.

_What home? _

The image of moist brick and dank air surrounded by waste and vagabonds floated like a darkened rain cloud through my pleasant thoughts, staining them like black, dirty ink.

His smile dropped instantly as huffed down his nose, and he reached up to run his hand through his hair before catching himself and dropping his hands, palms down, into his lap limply. His breathing sped up before he sighed and squared his shoulders. He looked like I had just told him that he was going to die tomorrow.

"Oh, of course. I—I'm terribly sorry. I must be keeping you from…someo—something," his jaw was clenched as he stared hardly at me, although he didn't appear to be seeing anything, his eyes glazed over like emeralds.

That expression could have frozen the entire city, never mind my heart.

I couldn't help but stare at him as my lip trembled ever so slightly.

"Bella—" all of sudden his voice became velvet again, deep and comforting and sounding of a place I had never been, but desperately, oh so desperately wanted to call home.

His chair scraped harshly across the cobblestone as he stood up, walking around the table until his face was two feet from mine.

"Isabella," his breath washed over my face, sweet and tangy, "would you…meet me back here tomorrow?"

I breathed in a lungful of air painted with his scent that sent my heart racing and my mind reeling.

_Nonononononononono…_

"Yes…of course," I whispered, trying to muster the composure to look up at him.

He nodded, smiled, and paused looking at my face.

"Thank you," he said simply.

He turned on his heel and walked away without looking back.

But I stayed and stared at him, silent tears making their tracks down my cold face that for once was white instead of red. I was so confused, so…so lost. I didn't know what I wanted really. My heart…the enigmatic and fickle thing that it was…it wanted to see Edward again. But my mind, in all its logic and wisdom told me that I was wrong, that really, I couldn't see him. I didn't know how he thought of me…which only added to my muddled state. The tears came faster now as I made my way down to Pont Neuf where I knew Angela waited.

My breath came out in pants as I cried. Edward only pitied me, that was all. He didn't, couldn't care for someone like me who had nothing to look forward to in life except maybe a rented room in the future, or someone buying my art in a month, a year. I was another nobody who wandered the streets, a ghost that haunted herself.

And I finally began to accept the truth; my father had been right when he said I would amount to nothing.

The breath came out of my lungs in gasps as the truth made its way throughout my entire body which had suddenly gone limp. I slumped against a decrepit, brick wall and sighed, trying to stem the tears with the hem of my shirt. The worst part was that I knew I would go to see him again tomorrow, no matter what I was feeling now. Because some part of me cared about him. I wouldn't allow myself to love, merely care from a distance. He didn't need a worthless girl hanging off his arm when he could have anyone he wanted; he deserved the best, the most beautiful, loving lady the world had to offer.

That wasn't me.

No matter what it did to me in any way, I would return to the Palais-Royal to have coffee with Edward Cullen again.

His face floated behind my lids as I sat lifelessly against the moist brick and let sleep overwhelm my body.

_ "Isabella…."_

**I hope you liked this…it's not my favorite chapter even though it's a slight turning point, I feel like it could have been better. Sorry if you don't like it guys! I'll have the next one up ASAP, school starts soon so it might take me a bit longer! Ta ta! :) RxR please…there's the little button…right down there! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, or any of the history in all its awesomeness. Sadly.**

**Hello! Thank you for the reviews, again! I'm sorry this took sooooo long! I had finals all last week, and have been painstakingly studying like a madwoman forever. Ah the joy that is AP. Anyways, I hope you like this one! I tried to make it a tish longer…not by much sorry to say. But I tried!**

Chapter 5

The climate of the city had gotten colder in both a political and environmental sense, it seemed, overnight. I had been awoken too early—before dawn in fact—by bickering and yelling from the building whose awning I had taken refuge under. My bag, which served as a pillow, was damp with melted snow and my canvas was slick as an ice brick. As I made my way down the iced over roads, the sun began to peak through the tops of the buildings, its light reflecting off of the ice like a beacon in the distance.

I didn't know what time Edward would be here…it hadn't exactly crossed my mind to ask him.

_A little preoccupied…_

His face flashed through my head like a flag rustling in the winter wind. Oh hell. I didn't even know if he would show at any time today. The realistic part of my mind had already confirmed my insecurities, and my willingness to accept them. It was all I could do at this point, because for someone like me who had lost everything she had ever dreamed of, well there was nothing more to do than just that. And that part that accepted also realized that Edward would find out one day that I wasn't deserving of his kindness and attention. The inevitability of it all, though unsurprising, still managed to worm its way through my heart, shattering the remaining fragments that had been left untouched up to this point in my life.

Yet with all of this, there was that little part—that subconscious longing—that resided in my bones. I hadn't figured out how to handle that yet. I wasn't sure what would happen to me when that day came when he would shake his head, and look at me with a cold pity and turn his back on my depressing existence. My parents had done it, so long ago, but the pain of it still burned on the edges of my heart. There was nothing that could fix me, nothing that could be done.

I fit in so well with the cold atmosphere of the city, blending into the hate and mistrust that crawled through the sewers and coffee houses and everywhere in between. What I had felt for so long it seemed was adhering itself to that dirty walls of Paris and rearing its ugly head in the musty corners and homes of the people. But no matter how this emotion gripped the city, I couldn't be more alone. Edward had been this bright, shining angel that had fallen down and for no apparent reason showed me kindness and made me laugh for the first time since, well, forever.

I had no way to repay his sympathies other that trying to reciprocate them the best I could. Meeting him back at this fateful café was the only way I knew how. I didn't know what he wanted, not really. But I knew enough to trust him. And that was a dangerous thing. Trust could manifest any sort of emotions, or request. So he couldn't know. All I could be to him was a flighty girl of the gutters who lived where it was warmest.

And so as the day broke across the frosty streets and alleyways, I meandered with my life's belongings all packed into my bag to the same, fateful café. To wait.

The shiny-faced owner nodded a greeting in my direction, his lips pressed together in a grim smile as the shiver inducing wind rattled the loose shutters on the windows above. I pulled my thin shirt closer around my boney frame, crossing my ankles tightly as I sat down on a glassy chair in the sunniest spot possible and waiting, my breath clouding the air in front of my face with tiny ice crystals. My hair fell thickly around my neck and face like a soft scarf as goose pimples made their way up my arms and back.

The soft tinkling of a bell from a shop door rang through the air in the distance, sending sparrows floating towards the chilled atmosphere and the first real customers of the day made their harried way into the warmed café, sending the rich aromas of bread and hot wine lazily engulfing the air in my lungs and around me. I wound my arms tighter around my torso as my stomach clenched and tightened, rumbling deeply like the hollow drum it was.

I began humming as I sat, waiting. My fingers warmed themselves under my arms enough so I could take out my ratty Shakespeare so as to pass the time. The volume made a satisfying thud on the table as I set it down, totally immersing myself in Romeo and Juliet's plight for love, cancelling out my surroundings thoroughly.

I don't know how long I sat in the slowly warming air, still as a statue, but when I reached Act 3 I sighed and shut the book, not able to concentrate as I had before. My mind had begun to worry and race again. I gazed around the street in search of that tousled, bronze mess that I had obsessed over for so long and realized that only an hour or so had passed, slowly ticking away. My fingers unconsciously tangled themselves through a lock of long hair, twirling the cool, satiny strand in agitation as I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I couldn't very well sit here all day…I was such a dunce.

Shoving the book back into my bag, I rummaged through my scant things, pulling out a brush and the small drawstring bag that contained what paints I could afford. Setting the slightly thawed canvas onto the tabletop, I look back at the building and surroundings, trying _again_ to decipher what I had missed when I began painting this picture. Edward and his family looked so…free of restraints, and Edward, well he was just the paragon of the painting. The surroundings in comparison lacked a certain luster that exuded liveliness and frivolity—the two things the Palais was supposed to model without question at any time or date; the buildings, so still and cold, dimmed the art considerably. I sighed heavily and just stared, willing the paints to become brighter, to move like the real thing.

People were milling around the streets and shops, a carriage or two barging through between the slim walls and each time sending my heart into a thumping mess, hoping that Edward was inside one of those beetle black contraptions. I began chewing the inside of my cheek in frustration and tightened my arms around my torso to keep in the warmth as my eyes darted near and far in search of his tall, lanky, godlike physique. He had said he would meet me here. Today.

"Looking for someone?" a deep chuckle reverberated through the frenzied air behind me.

My eyes popped open in surprise and I whirled, opening mouth to demand why he had taken so long. But the witty retort I had stuck in my throat as I took in his tired appearance. Stubble peppered his jawline, his eyes dimmer, framed by shadows that hadn't been so dark yesterday I was sure. He pressed his lips into a small smile, and looked down at me, unconsciously running a hand through his hair. Just as I was about to comment, my throat turned to sandpaper as a wind blew through and I began to cough and shiver terribly.

"Bella?"

I held my hand up and shook my head, continuing to cough roughly into my arm.

_What the hell?_

"Bella?" his voice came out laced with worry as he reached for my shoulders, looking frantically at my cold face.

The coughing subsided as fast as it had come and I sniffed quickly, shoving my fingers between my crossed arms, jumping slightly as I felt how cold they were.

"Just…w-waiting," were my teeth _chattering?_ I bit my lip just in case, nervously peering up at him.

His eyes widened minutely as I shivered. I probably looked dead with the way the wind had been eating away at the city for the past hour or two. I hadn't even thought to go inside…

"God, Bella. How long have you _been_ here?" He shrugged out of his coat in mere seconds, draping it thickly over my shoulders without comment and tucking it around my chest while he urged me back towards the chair, "You look frozen, honestly Bella. Why didn't you go inside? Why…? And it snowed this morning! And…and you were just sitting here? Lord."

He grabbed my hands, which were covered by the long sleeves, and wrapped them in his warm ones.

My breath caught in my throat as our skin came in contact, and I started again as a jolt of fire ran its way up my arm and to my heart, my lungs, my mind. His hand twitched, but then gripped mine tighter, trying to warm me.

"Edward, I'm f-fine. Just…just let's go inside, okay? I-It will be better," I forced a smile out.

His gaze met mine as he pulled me up, and I ended up flush against his chest, causing me to gasp. I looked down and snatched my hands away, hurrying towards a pub's door without looking back, but knowing he was following.

I had no idea why I was acting so skittish, but it was freaking me out a bit. And what was with that jolt of fire? I sure as hell didn't know.

He caught up with me just as we reached the steps and he held the door, motioning for me to go inside. I paused and looked at his worried expression.

"Thank you," I murmured, and brushed softly passed him to a table where I sat and waited for him to join me.

Without a word, he sat down gracefully and looked up at me from under his lashes.

"Are you sure that you're alright? Your face is…you look frozen to death Bella,"

I stared, mesmerized by his velvety voice, and also slightly confused as to why he cared so much.

"_Oui_," my voice came out quietly as I smiled up at him, tightening his heavy coat around my arms, the smell hitting me like a brick for the first time since I had put it on.

_Lord_…

Woodsy and reminding me of sunlight, his scent all at once filled the air.

I breathed in deeply, knotting my fingers on my lap, suddenly nervous. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I could see him staring intently at me. He didn't look like he bought anything I was telling him.

I tucked the coat tighter under my arms to quell the shivers that were bursting to get out, scooting closer to the fireplace.

"Bella—"

"Really. I promise to you. I'm _fine_, Edward. Honestly." My head bobbed up in down in a frantic nod.

He opened his mouth to respond, but thinking better of it at the last second let out a frustrated sigh instead.

"Alright," he stood up quickly, "I'm…going to get some food. Just…promise you'll stay here. By the fire?"

"Still as a statue," I made a show of becoming frozen in time, earning a laugh from him.

I grinned widely as he turned to go, looking back at my still figure and smirking, and then turning on his heel towards the counter.

As I watched him walk off my grin dropped and shattered on the floor, violent shudders escaping from my chilled muscles. I let them ripple through me, giving into the comforting sensation of relaxing my tense pose. But I couldn't let him see me like this. I didn't know what he would do…

Instead of continuing to ogle at him like an adoring fool, I glued my eyes to the table top stained with wine and buffed with age. The fire was finally beginning to work its magic the smoke and heat radiated off the logs and made its way through the threads of the overcoat and seeped into my skin. Leaning back limply against the chair, I played with a frayed fiber sticking out of the arm hole and waited for Edward, trying my hardest not look up. I knew he would catch me staring…I didn't know what my excuse would be.

I tried to focus on the world around me instead. The threads leaking from Edward's coat. The drunkards gulping down hot wine and rolls in the corner already belching vilely and discussing the politics that drowned Paris. My cracked, paint stained knuckles. The father holding the hand of his daughter as she giggled and tripped alongside him, her hair glinting like golden twine in the morning light. How I envied her.

"Here, I brought food," a plate was set down with a clutter onto the table.

I jumped in my seat and gasped, falling out of the chair with a thunk onto the flagged floor.

"Oh!"

_Damn, that hurt._

"Bella!" his hands automatically shot forward to help me up, "Why do you always fall when I see you?" he chuckled and shook his head, grasping my arm tenderly and helping me back into my chair. He looked down and brushed a stray piece of hair out of my face, setting my cheeks ablaze.

I bit my lip, and cleared my throat as he tucked it behind me ear, then sat down next to me. My hands went to my trousers to brush them off.

"I do _not_…always fall,"

"Mhmm," he cocked his brow under that amazing mess of hair and sighed, his tone dripping with skepticism.

"Just…shush over there," I stuck my tongue out at him.

_I actually just did that….oh…my….lord…._

My lips turned up in a guilty smile as I looked at his sparkling eyes, his mouth pressed together to hold in laughter.

"Did you…just…"

"Yes. In fact. I did."

He snickered behind his hand, and tried to pass it off as a cough.

"All matters aside," his eyes narrowed sarcastically, crinkling like they did when he smiled, "Here," he pushed a thick porcelain plate towards me and nodded at it with his head.

I opened my mouth but before I could say a thing, he held up his hands.

"I don't want to have to go through that whole '_I'm not hungry'_ thing again. Just…eat this. Please?"

I giggled in joy at his imitation of my voice. And his obvious frustration. But with a face like that, well, who was I to deny him anything?

"Sure, sure. Thank you Edward. I mean it this time," my fingers grasped the plate greedily.

He beamed down at my face as I chewed happily. I could have moaned at the exquisite taste of the bar food. And this wasn't even high class stuff we were talking about here.

"Well at least you're warmed up now. Honestly, that was frightening Bella. You didn't look so good back there,"

I pretended to gasp behind my hand.

"_Monsieur _Cullen! Are you insinuating that I look less than perfect at any time? I'm offended!"

_Ah, the delight that was sarcasm…_

"Is there a response that I wouldn't get in trouble for? Or should I just assume that I'm supposed to remain quiet over here?" he grinned widely back at my expression, which I'm sure was ridiculous.

I simply frowned and shrugged, taking another bite of my food.

He rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time. Not that it didn't look good.

"Seriously, Bella. Do you have somewhere to go home to tonight? I couldn't let you do that again, it wouldn't be right."

And just like that, my happy little bubble popped. Like each word had a pointed edge designed to stab my heart with, and only mine. All it took was for him to care.

To show that he could reciprocate it.

_Dammitdammitdammit…..nonononononono I couldn't let this happen._

I huffed down my nose, setting down the fork with a clatter and glared down at the non-offending food, wanting that rational part to shut the hell up. My glare turned to him, when all I wanted to do was smile and be loved and let him in. But of course I couldn't.

"Do you think I just _choose_ to sit out there, Edward? Honestly? _You_ couldn't _let_ me?" it came out like a rusty nail on glass. A bullet out of a gun.

"Bella, I—"

_Stop him. Now._

"Forget about. Please." My teeth were gritted against my mouth.

"But—"

_Leave it, Edward….Let it be…._

"Please. I'll be fine." It was almost a whisper. I could feel tears making their track up my throat.

He stared at me like I had gone crazy. I didn't blame him. But there was no way in hell I was going to let him give me more than he already had. I didn't deserve that. He had to know that. Or I would just make him find out. Pity was one thing I couldn't afford. Angela couldn't afford. We were all we had. It _had_ to stay that way.

"Edward let it be." Cold like the ice.

I pleaded with my eyes. My face. My words.

"Bella—" it came out sounding like a warning.

Damn it.

I clenched my jaw and stared across the stained table at him.

"Listen, please. Just…listen. I—"

"No, Bella. _You _listen." His voice was hard as he interrupted.

This was it. I had blown it. I would have cried if I was alone I was sure. My throat already burned.

"Bella," he let out a heavy sigh, sounding too old for him and looked at me, his eyes like hard emeralds, "You aren't allowed to push me away like that. That's not how this works. You don't want me to help you, you don't want me to buy you a meal, hell, you might not want to be here," his voice rose faintly, "But _I_ want to help you, even if it's selfish of me. And give you things, but I could care less if you don't want them. And I want you here so I can talk to you, and hear you laugh, because I _like_ _you_ and all the things that come with it. Too much. How could I not? I—"

I think I froze to death. And then went to meet St. Peter at the golden gates this morning. Because this was not how reality was supposed to go.

"Edward. I do want to be here." I could feel my lip tremble. Aw crap.

"I—what?" his eyes flickered to mine and sparkled like the sun.

To hell with reality and the consequences of risks.

My breath became shaky as I faced him square on.

"I said, I _do_ want to be here."

Here we go.

**I'm liking Edward's little rant up there…anyone else? Hope it wasn't too slow or too confusing or too…not good? And I hope that you liked it! :) Please review, always helps! (I promise!) School's going to be slow for a while so the next one shouldn't take so long! TTFN!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own ANYTHING..sadly.**

** Mkay. Before ya'll come at me with pitchforks and torches and whatever else, which you rightly should just so we're clear, IM SORRYYYYYYYY! My laptop broke…and I had school. Which is a lame excuse. But true. Gotta love AP classes. I feel awful. Honestly. You can all hate me, but I tried to get this done ASAP once I got the laptop back. I know its short…don't hate. I'm working on getting back into the grove of writing. My English teachers weren't so happy with it this year. Anyways…IM SORRY..i don't know how many times I can say that. X100000+. Please read on, and I hope you enjoy!(****sorry****)**

Chapter 6

"_I had to find you, _

_Tell you I need you,_

_Tell you I set you apart._

_Tell me your secrets,_

_And ask me your questions,_

_Oh, let's go back to the start."_

_-The Scientist, Coldplay_

His face shifted imperceptibly, but it was enough; eyes suddenly sparking in the dull light of the fire, his tense shoulders dropping just so. I looked down at my hands clasped in my lap, fiddling with the edges of his overcoat again. I didn't know how to continue on, how to tell him what was dancing through my head every time he spoke, shifted, _breathed_. A silence settled around our table like a fine, silk curtain; slowly sliding around us, and I suddenly knew, in that instant, that I couldn't do this here. Not where men were braying at one another and gulping down their deaths in mugs and frothing glasses. The glances cast at our table shouldn't have mattered to me, they didn't know the circumstances and didn't know Edward and I, but the raised brows and snickers behind greasy hands were enough to light my cheeks. I, in breeches worn through to the knees and without the proper chaperone that would escort a young lady when out with a man like Edward—a man with money and power and good looks. Perhaps they thought the gentleman had brought money for me, to pay me for God only knows. It did not matter what the exact thoughts were. We had to leave now, or I would damage his reputation enough so that I would never see him again.

My eyes traveled slowly up to his face, still in a mask of confusion and acceptance.

_Beautiful_.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest and lifted my mouth up in a small grin. Or at least that's what it was supposed to look like.

"Edward, we need to leave. Now." The chair shifted garishly as I abruptly stood up, grasping the worn table for support.

He set his jaw before opening his mouth to speak.

I held up my hand to stop him, "_S'il vous plaît, _Edward. Please."

His eyes narrowed the smallest bit, and I was ready to beg, but he nodded as he looked around the pub and got up, coming around to push in my chair.

"Come on then, where to?" I couldn't understand the tone of his voice, but I smiled and nodded my head towards the door.

"Follow me."

He reached it before me and held it open, looking apprehensive and still confused as ever. I tried to appear nonchalant as I walked out, glancing at him through my hair before gathering it up in my hands and tying it back in a heavy braid and stopping on the rue Saint Honore. My hand reached behind me as if to grab his, but Edward was focused on nothing it seemed, thinking and looking at the sky. I didn't know what to make of it. I dropped my hand limply to my side self-consciously.

"Edward?"

His eyes shot to mine before dropping as he chuckled and shook his head, looking up at me from under his lashes.

"Excuse me for that," he paused and met my gaze levelly, seeming to remember the point of coming out, "Where were you thinking?"

I cocked my eyebrow. "I'm still thinking….perhaps somewhere a little quieter? There is a small café on rue Saint-Martin that would be alright, I suppose. Usually it is very…empty. Unless you wanted to go someplace else?" I thought of the places he usually ate and relaxed, "I would understand. We could sit by the Seine, but the wind is awfully hard there and the Tulieries is a bit more crowded, although I suppose that would not be so bad, only I can't concentrate very well at the moment and I thought—"

"Bella."

"I thought that it would perhaps be easier to talk somewhere that we, well you more than I, wouldn't worry about being—"

"_Bella_." His voice was urgent as his eyes searched mine.

"Being—I—what?" My mouth clamped shut and I froze, thinking I had said something wrong before realizing that I had been rambling on.

_Crap._

"Wherever you want to go is alright with me. Just lead the way, if you would. It's getting a bit cold out here, you know?" He smirked.

"Oh, yes, of course," I blushed, "follow me then."

I cradled my canvas and bag under my arm and kept ease pace with him as we walked down the cobbles. I suppose I tripped more than anything over the uneven stones, but he kept an easy grace and it was difficult not to ogle. My braid fell over my shoulder and I intentionally let it sway in time with our steps in front of my face; maybe he wouldn't notice my staring.

Silence settled heavily around us like a heavy velvet sheet as we made our way down the rue Saint-Honore, and I fidgeted uncomfortably under his gaze several times as I caught him peering at me the same way I was him. Men and women all around kept to their normal lives, trying to remain inconspicuous under the eyes of the National Guard and neighbors whose mouths would gladly loosen for a _sou_ or two. I wondered how Edward could live at ease knowing that the people of aristocracy, including himself, were in constant danger. A fear had spread through Paris and the surrounding towns, and chateaus were being looted and reduced to ashes by wine fueled crowds every passing hour. I didn't know how far away from the city walls Edward resided, but I instinctively shied away from the mere idea of him or his family being in any immediate danger. Even the doctors were losing credibility under this new regime.

At the corner between rue Saint-Honore and rue Saint-Denis, Edward suddenly grabbed my arm and pulled my tight against him to the wall behind us. My breath came whooshing out of my lungs as his arm came around me and I felt the damp coolness of the bricks against my shins.

"Edward, wha—"

"Be quiet," he breathed into my ear. I felt his breath tickle my loose hair and looked up at him, eyes swimming with confusion.

And then I heard it.

The tumbrels had begun to make continuous rounds along the roads recently, ever since the fishwives had stormed Versailles and demanded that the King and his Austrian Queen be taken to Paris and the _san-culottes_ had become uncommonly friendly with the Jacobin club. I knew the sound too well from sleeping under Pont Neuf and hiding in alleyways whenever they passed by. I recognized the heavy crunching, and the wailing. Oh, the wailing. As they came into view, people stopped as we had and cowered against buildings, as if some almighty being had come to give us our judgment. Some held the rusted bars in earnest, crying out and tossing small things—a stocking, perhaps, or a hair ribbon—as their last plea. Others, those who had merely accepted their fate or were to frozen with that rigid fear that grasped anyone as that knock came on your door in the dead of night, those people sat and stared. Eyes glassed over like a fine frosted glass, hands limply dangling. Their lives were already stolen, the guillotine merely slicing down with finality that only it could offer to even a corpse of a person. They scared me the most.

I shrank back into the wall and Edward's side, trying to blend in as much as possible. No matter how revolutionary this new government claimed to be, they were strictly _bourgeois _or maybe _petit-bourgeois_ with their gentlemanly clothing and _citizen_ formalities. I was not welcome still.

Perhaps Edward sensed my distress, or it was the shivers that did it, but either way he wrapped me tighter still in his coat and held me in a vice-like grip against him. I was almost grateful, for the icy wind paired with the disconcerting and purely sad eyeful that the tumbrels rolling past provided almost made me feel faint as they weighed me down. They opened up that long festering wound in my heart and I found myself having difficulties breathing.

I almost cried out in relief as the last cart meandered past us, but clamped my mouth shut in resolute silence and breathed in through my nose, trying to calm my heart down and clear my head.

"Bella, how far away is this place from here do you suppose?" Edward's voice, husky with stress, made my look up, although I couldn't meet his eyes. Not yet.

I cleared my throat.

"'Tis not very far," my voice came out soft.

I shrugged out of his grasp and looked down at my fingers, white with cold. My arms instinctively went around my body to keep the warmth and my heart in.

_That damn hole_…

I could feel it festering darkly around the edges of my heart. I could feel it becoming dangerous again.

Shaking my head slightly, I looked up but still couldn't meet his gaze.

"Let's go then."

I didn't turn to make sure he was following, but I could hear his even breathing and footfalls beside me, and his eyes on my face.

My feet moved quickly of their own accord, the pace becoming frantic as the sun was covered by gray, monochromatic clouds that didn't appear to be budging any time soon. Edward kept up with me until I could see the chipped, blue sign of the small café hanging off the rusted hinges, banging back and forth in the wind. I nodded toward the door and almost ran to the steps, not waiting for Edward to open the door like a gentleman and instead, opening it just enough so I could scurry in over to a table in the back. This place was in no way an improvement from the last pub, but the thick fumes of ash, smoke, and smog from the tallows factories not far off provided for a more secure feeling. For me, at least.

I heard Edward sit down across from me, and kept my eyes down. I tried to think, to choose my words carefully before speaking. He couldn't run off in fright, not yet anyway.

"Edward," I felt like there was a lump of dough in my throat and attempted to swallow it unsuccessfully.

"Bella…?"

I bit my lip and debated right and wrong. Waiting to talk to him was not going to make this any easier than it was right now. It was all or nothing. My eyes slowly lifted to his, and I felt my body wither back into the chair mechanically, though all I could see in his stare was acceptance and fear, and something else that made me melt a little more. I felt my chin tremble and automatically set it.

"I don't know how to begin, Edward," I whispered tentatively.

His eyes widened the smallest bit before he smiled a little, though it looked more forced than anything.

I looked down at my hands quickly before looking back up and tried to return it.

"The last few days have been very…confusing for me. And…I…well, I'm only the slightest bit…scared. Actually, no," I shook my head, "I'm very afraid." I was still whispering.

"Bella,I don't want you to be afraid. I—"

"Please let me finish."

I paused for a moment to gather my thoughts…again.

"I'm so very…anxious, I suppose would be fitting. I feel as though I need to tell you the truth about me, so as to make you see my life how it is. I _need_ you to understand my life Edward. Otherwise I might go insane with…well I am not sure what exactly. But I have to tell you things, Edward, that you aren't going to like very much. I know it's asking a lot, because I'm quite sure you already have enough to worry about, and you don't need nor _want_ someone, something, like me hanging around. I can respect that. But please, just please, listen for now. I don't know how else to convey my feelings to you other than an explanation that you needn't like nor remember after this, if that is what you want."

My eyes immediatley saught his, and I unjustly blushed.

The rhythym that my monologue had created dropped as I waited for him to say or do something. Run out on me, perhaps?

_You fool, of course he will._

"Edward?" I sounded meek.

He breathed out through his nose like he was…relieved? His eyes dropped to the table for a moment before meeting mine and looking back and forth searchingly.

"Are you sure?" he breathed, reaching out hsistantly to to touch the back of my had before drawing back and setting it down in his lap.

I set my jaw and nodded smally, clasping my hands in front my me.

He returned my nod, and met my eyes from under his lashes.

"Alright, Bella."

_…Where to begin, I wonder…_

**Ok! Sooooooo any thoughts? I know this is a terrible place to end and this chapter is short and gah I'm sorry! Its like 2am and I gots to get me some shuteye people. I'll update soon! Its summer so I have nothing to do. No worries. And my laptop is back…added bonus. Please review! I appreciate it TONS. Actually. ;) ttfn! **

**Ps. The scientist by coldplay…and basically anything of theirs that is in that same, general mood would be a good thing to listen to while reading this…cause that's what I listened to while I wrote it. LOVE THEM. 3**

**Please review friends! Make my day! **


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything!**

**So I kept my word…up the next day! And it's still shorter than many of you would probably like, but I tried hard to make it well written and good and such…so please try and appreciate it friends Hope you like it anyways! **

Chapter 7

"_I only know that I am better where you are,_

_I only know that I am better where you are,_

_I only know that I belong where you are."_

_-Near to You, A Fine Frenzy_

I looked up at Edward's face for a moment, perhaps to calm myself down, but at the time all I knew was that I needed to see his eyes. My heart was racing in my chest, and I struggled to keep the pain at bay, knowing that with each spoken word, it would flare up that much more. There was no going back now that I had so willingly offered myself up to him like this, maybe not on a silver platter but damn close enough.

My teeth found purchase on the inside of my cheek and I took a deep breath again to steady myself before meeting his gaze unwaveringly and straight on.

"I suppose I should start from the beginning, though it's going to take more time than it is really worth to work back that far. I haven't thought about this for a long while, and though that is most likely not the best coping mechanism in the world, it's all I've got," I paused, "I used to have a family, Edward, and a home. I was a sister and a best friend to someone not long ago, though it seems to be ages. We lived in the apartments above my father's small key making business along the rue Saint-Antoine, all four of us. There wasn't much money, but we got by."

My family's face appeared in my head one by one, though they were different than usual. This time they smiled and giggled, my mother blushed and my father chuckled. They were happy. I heard the sharp intake of my breath as I struggled to keep going, but Edward sat patiently across the table, waiting. I kept my eyes down on the worn table and fiddled with the sleeves of the overcoat.

"My mother's name was Renée, my father Charles. I had a little sister too, Bette. She was seven the last time I saw her. Renée had moved into Paris from a small farm outside of Metz, and she was pregnant with me before she and my…my father were married. Nobody knew, and the wedding took place a month after they had met. I always thought they were happy, growing up. I thought they loved one another, and us. When I was eight Bette was born. Where we had once struggled with money, we were now desperate. There were no more new paints and pretty dresses left on my pillow, and I soon found myself cleaning laundry with my mother in the alley to earn more. I didn't realize, until it was too late, that we were farther in debt than my parents had led us to believe." My voice became dark and heavy; I could feel my whole body bending under the force of the onslaught of memories.

"When I turned fifteen, there was no cake, no _pâtisseries_ to be had. The whole neighborhood was starving. But I did get a gift. That's what my father called him when he brought home a man that I had never seen before; a man in his late forties perhaps. He was dressed in finer clothing that anyone I had ever met wore, perhaps to mask his ugliness inside and out—a black, velvet waist coat with a cravat starched whiter that his powdered hair. His face was discolored, like tallow wax, his cheeks sagging and his eyes dead pools of mud, his mouth a red wound that moved with emotion. I was terrified. He spoke only once, a voice deep and gravelly that I won't forget until the day I die; '_Enchanté__, Mademoiselle.'_ And he took my hand roughly, my mother averting her eyes quickly and my father smiling. I should have run then." I added softly.

My hands balled into fists under the table as I continued, "I will spare you details of the following weeks, however by the next month we were married in his estate's church by a monk he had given shelter to. Many of my friend's envied me, they hadn't the slightest chance of such an opportunity. Even Bette was jealous, at seven. I felt dead. There was nothing for me left, and I saw only a life of mindless living in the future. This was not what I wanted, to be kept. I remember my mother crying endlessly into scraps of cloth, for though I now had a wealthy husband, my family could not afford anything better than what they had already—there was no lace and crinoline for them. I would have given all the lace in the world to be back under my roof that night…my wedding night."

I heard Edward gasp, but I could not look up yet.

"I can promise you that nothing happened, and I paid for it dearly. I refused to leave my dressing chambers upon returning to his home, locking myself away and only taking the water and rolls that my maid brought in from the markets. It was stupid, I suppose to do that, immature even. I received letters from my mother, slid under the door, begging me to reconsider. Every day, like clockwork, my…husband, James was his name, would come and promise me jewels and niceties. Soon, he became not so patient. There came a point where he resorted to banging on the door with his fists while snarling and yelling, and I knew I had to do something other than sit and mourn or one day I would face more that thundering knocks on a wall. That day came a day after our one month anniversary of marriage when my father showed.

"The day started out like every other of the past month, and I sat and opened the only book that had been kept in my chambers, a bible. I never actually read it, but I had taken to using the rouge left on my tables and mixing it with water to make a reddish paint to use, decorating the pages with whatever I wanted. I sat and waited for James to come up again, to try and persuade me to leave my quarters. This was December of 1792, and things had gotten very touchy already in the city, as I'm sure you are aware. James never showed, and I was beginning to think that for one day I could have peace. Then, at midday, I heard the gravel crunching on the drive and knew I was wrong. I remember looking out the window while hiding behind a curtain and seeing my father and James getting out of his carriage, looking murderous and terrifying, my father more than James.

My voice was shaking now.

_Breathe…in…out…_

"I heard them coming up the stairway, quiet like they were trying not to alert me to their presence. I began throwing everything I could find into a bag I had brought when I moved to his home, my paints, clothing, food, anything. I tried to be silent about it, but I think they must have heard something because they next thing I knew the door flew open and I was caught like a mouse in the eyes of a tom cat, timid and weak. So, so weak. James threw me a deprecating grin before he shut the door. I was trapped, and I could feel it. My father stared darkly at me from under his brow as we listened to James go back to his study on the floor below. His eyes were black as coal, jaw jumping in agitation.

'So, Isabella,' his voice was hard, and I jumped a little, knocking my bag to the floor, 'leaving?' he started pointedly at my things, now splayed across the floor.

I couldn't speak, Edward. You don't know how he terrified me. He started to make his way around the tables and chairs until we were but a meter apart, perhaps.

'You didn't think you could keep this up for that long, did you,_ma chère? _That he wouldn't come and fetch me after all this time? You think your mother didn't tell me about this, you selfish brat. The first letter even, I read first. Ungrateful, selfish bitch.' It came out like a snarl from a rabid dog. I had never heard my father speak like this before. Ever." I breathed in a strangled voice.

"Bella…." Edward's voice broke me from my reverie.

"No. Let me finish," I set my jaw to keep from crying the tears I could feel burning up my throat, "I had never seen my father so angry. I tried to plead with him,

'_S'il vous plaît, mon père. _Please, stop this madness…' He picked up my hand mirror and threw it across the room, the crashing glass sending my jumping again. I was crying freely now.

'Isabella, I would never have thought you would be so stupid, so childish. You will do what I say, girl, there is no other option for you now. I did this for you, and how do you repay me? Churlish hag.' He laughed at me, and stepped at closer. 'I can see now you are nothing but a common whore. Waiting for the highest bidder. He is not good enough for you then? You do not appreciate what I have done for you?' He spit in my face and grabbed my arm—I had bruises from his fingers for weeks….

'Father…' He looked so petrifying up close…like the devil himself, or perhaps an animal. And then he did something that, even in the state he was in, I was surprised at. He slapped me across the face, throwing me back into the cushions. I won't go into the details after that, though I ended up in the corner surrounded by broken glass eventually. He said one thing to me before he left;

'You will do what I say, Isabella. You will go down to your husband after I leave, and be a good wife. We are no longer your family, and will have nothing to do with you. Do not expect to see us again, for you have brought this on yourself. You do not want him? Then you cannot have anything. I should have known you were undeserving. Don't you dare come crying to our door when he realizes what you are. I am going to leave, and shan't return. You are not my daughter any longer, you ungrateful wench.' He knocked over my things as he left and refused to turn back."

I breathed in deeply through my nose and twisted my hands around my hair, back and forth, the burning hole in my chest becoming hellish. Edward remained silent, and I couldn't dare to meet his eyes yet.

"I wasn't crying any longer, I'm not sure how I held myself together, but I grabbed everything I owned as well as things I'm sure James wouldn't miss and threw them back into my overturned bag. I never considered listening to Charles. It would have been easier. But I waited until I was sure he had left and James was asleep later that night. I don't think he expected me to come to him; he already had mistresses left and right. I stole out in the dead of night through the kitchen doors, not leaving a note for my maid even, and took a horse. I could have stolen things, broken precious belongings, but I wanted out.

"The next morning I was in Paris again; I had let the horse go on the edge of the city gates. It was snowing that day, and people stayed in their homes. I had nowhere to go, but I bought a small room for a fortnight with the money I had taken from James under a different name, if he decided to try and find me. You can't imagine the look the innkeeper gave me, battered and frozen as I was. I spent days trying to recuperate, to make some sort of plan. I wanted to see Bette, there was no telling how she was faring, but I was so very afraid back then. I renewed my rent on the room for another week when it was up, for I could still barely walk. Every night I woke up covered in sweat and trapped in my sheets from nightmares. I ate rarely, and only left twice to get new candles and paint.

"Three weeks after I had left James' mansion, I left the inn for good early in the morning. It was now 1793, the turn of the year having been but a week before. The city was frozen solid, almost no food to be found in the markets and the government becoming more restless with each day. It didn't take me long to find my old home on the rue Saint-Antoine; I was going to try and talk to Bette, you see. The apartments were empty when I got to them through the back stairwell—I had been trying to sneak in. I heard later that my family—all of them—had been taken away for dealing with an aristocrat, namely James. A neighbor had turned them in. They were being kept in La Force, awaiting trial. Even dear, little Bette.

"I went to their trial, at the tribunal but kept to the back, and listened as one by one my family was condemned. A day later they made their peace with Mademoiselle Guillotine. That was nine months ago, Edward. I didn't go to see them killed, though it would have been patriotic by all accounts of the new regime." I paused and took my hair out of its braid, letting it fall to cover my face, to hide me.

"I have no family now, and you don't know how it's haunted me to think of my little sister being taken up to the block, to be driven in a tumbrel down to her death. You must understand my demons to some extent, but honestly, it would be an impossibility unless you have to go through it yourself. I know you and your family are in danger—that is why they no longer come to Paris with you. It means so very much to me that you would…_risk your life_, as it were, to merely sit and have coffee with me. And that is why I have chosen to tell you this. Because you, of all people, have enough humanity in you to care.

"Edward, I have no money, and no home. I sleep under Pont Neuf every night with a my bag as my pillow, and hope that I don't turn up the next morning on the slabs of rock to be taken to the morgue, mottled and blue. I am broken, hated, and poor. Even now, under this new republic, I have no life. You must know this to protect yourself," I paused for a beat too long and closed my eyes, "That is all I have to say and offer." It came out as a gentle whisper.

The silence that engulfed us was deafening in its own right, and lasted for too long to be normal. I had no explicit reason to trust this man I had so suddenly bared my soul to, quite literally in all regards. I worried suddenly that I had said too much, that he would finally see me for what I was, worthless and broken just as my father had predicted. I waited for the scrape of a chair, a sigh and the sound of footsteps walking away with finality that only I could induce.

"Edward, I…don't—"

His hand, suddenly under my chin, lifting it up, stopped me. I refused to meet his eyes, but he waited patiently. His touch was soft, concerned.

_Oh….my…._

"Isabella," his voice was husky with rest, "oh, dear, Isabella…"

He fingers traced my cheek and tucked my hair behind my ears and I could hear ragged breathing, both mine and his. I hadn't expected this, and was in no way prepared for what he said next.

"I wish I could have saved you…sooner. Than man—" he broke off, his face darkening, "that man you call you father…he was _wrong_. At the risk of sounding overly cruel, I would have done much worse than turn him in to the Committee. You don't deserve to live like that, and I would have done anything if I had known you then to keep you safe. I wish…" he trailed off, dropping his hand.

_He's…blaming…himself…_

I could feel my chin trembling as I struggled to not cry. My hand reached out again of its own accord to touch his and I didn't pull it back this time.

"Edward, there's nothing to do now…I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad. I wanted you to know why I act the way I do sometimes…Please don't blame yourself Edward. You must see that you couldn't have done anything. Please."

He smiled crookedly, and I felt my heart rise in my throat…the hole already healing a little.

"I know, _chère_…But that man. If I ever see him again…I don't know what I'll do to him, Bella. How could someone do that to someone like you? So trusting and young. I am at a complete loss, and I need to make this better, I_ want_ to make this better. If I have to spend the rest of my days doing so, then I will. You never, _ever_ deserved something like this and it makes me sick to think that that man found this agreeable. I would _never…_ This…James. Do you know what happened to him? I could turn him into the Committee…set the mob on him. Tell me how to make this better, Bella. Please." He looked so helpless as he held my hand, and I didn't know what to tell him.

"Edward, I don't know. Be here. Just stay and it will be alright." I whispered, biting my lip and blushing.

He waited a moment before responding, meeting my eyes, "If that is what you want, _ma belle_."

"It is."

I smiled up at him, batting back the memories that I had brought too readily to the surface. There was a way to make this…friendship…work, and I was going to find it.

"Edward, can we leave? I can't…I can't be here any longer."

"_Oui,_ Bella. I think we really should. It's getting dark and I don't want to stay here longer than we need to. I'm not sure how safe it is, and to be honest, I can't stand the thought of you here, alone." He furrowed his brow and sighed, looking down and blushing.

"Edward, I'm going to be alone once you leave. You know this."

He looked back up again and cocked his eyebrow, fiddling with the sleeve of his jacket.

"Edward?"

His mouth twitched up into a small smile.

"I…um…well would you perhaps…consider…comingbacktomyhome?"

Silence. I could hear the customers in the front arguing, the bartender cleaning his glasses and whistling but there Edward it seemed, was quiet. My eyes went wide and I looked down, coughing into my sleeve and letting my hair fall back in front of my face like a shield.

"Isabella, I know its…a strange request. I don't like the idea even of you staying out in the middle of the city, alone…not that you choose it, but please, Bella, please. Think about it from my perspective if you will. What would you have me do when I know I could remedy it? Please, _chére_?"

And I could see it, if I really tried. What if it was him, what would I do?

_The same thing…._

I took a deep breath and loosened my tense stance, the stale smell of my old life echoing through my lungs, tucked my hair back and peered up at him.

"Alright, Edward." I breathed.

**So….any thoughts? I liked it, although feeling bad for Bella over here, I don't know about you. I'm liking working with the history stuff, any opinions there as well? Hope you guys enjoyed it, I'll update as soon as possible…its pretty obvious how much of a life I have what with the speed of these updates;) Please review! Always helps! I'm serious, guys…make my day! Ttfn friends!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I, sadly, do not own any of the following.**

** OK. So I didn't update even close to what I should have. My dad had to borrow my laptop because his broke, and I didn't get it back until like three weeks ago. And I've just had a lot of other stuff going on, so sorry guys! I hope this KIND OF makes up for it. OH BUT..I got my AP test score back—that test that was giving me so much grief earlier this year..I did quite well. So yay. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this and..yeah. Read on.**

Chapter 8

"_Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road,_

_Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go._

_So make the best of this test and don't ask why,_

_It's not a question but a lesson learned in time."_

_-Green Day, "Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)_

The carriage ride to Edward's house became more and more comforting as we passed the city limits, the iron gates closing behind us with a metallic creak that promised to keep in the dangers that had once lurked in my own shadow. I had been so taken aback when his carriage had come up to the café we had been lurking in; I had expected perhaps riding horses out of town. With the way Paris was, anyone with a carriage was suspect and it was dangerous to even mention owning one. Most had given them to the "government" long ago.

We remained silent, he staring out of the window lost in his head, and I fidgeting across from him. Night had fallen before we left, and the lantern hanging outside the window swung with soft groans in time with the wheels. A fine layer of snow, like a soft gossamer sheet, layered itself in folds over the road, the flakes dancing in the wind to an unknown waltz. I didn't know if I should be the one to break the silence first, though it hung much lighter than usual; naturally blanketing us in familiar comfort. Edward's coat draped itself over my shoulders heavily, and I was fighting to stay awake. He had offered to give my shelter for tonight, but falling asleep in his presence wouldn't have been appropriate.

I let my eyes wander to his still face, green eyes staring aimlessly into the night. The moonlight cut through the windows and made the planes of his face visible in sharp relief, accentuating his strong jawline, the angles of his cheekbones and nose. I envied instantly whomever could call him hers and hers alone. It had never come up in conversation, but I was quite sure there was someone, and I dreaded the mere idea that he could belong to someone infinitely more appropriate than me. I had opened up to him, given him my heart on a rusted and scratched platter, yet had I any idea of his intentions other than wanting to help a needy soul? The resounding negative denial did not fail to ring loudly in the back of my mind. He said he cared, but many people cared about things. I _cared_ about bread, Angela, my books…what if I was just a charity case? Granted, he had risked many dangers to come into the city even, we shouldn't have even taken the carriage out…

I shook my head minutely, averting my eyes back to the outside world. Perhaps I could persuade him to let me walk back to Paris in the morning. Better that than risking him or his carriage.

The wheels slid and shook as we passed over ice and stones alike, the cobbles of refined city streets long gone. I had taken to focusing my eyes on the unimportant details of the coat sleeves, or the laces of Edward's boots as we neared farming settlements and groups of people alike. Starving mothers with cold arms wrapped in unyielding grips around equally chilled infants and children, bare legged girls were wandering, empty eyed youths clinging to anything substantial, and their lives on their backs in in their hands. These were the sights that greeted every turn and pass, the decorations that crowded the edges of the roads. I knew Edward could see them too, for they surrounded us on both sides in a never-ending stream of hollow faces and slim figures. The farther we got, the thinner the crowd but the sadder the sights. I saw myself in every young girls face, and wondered helplessly if she would think me ungrateful for giving up what my equally starving seven year old sister would have taken in my place without hesitation. Would she have taken a life of solitude and riches?

There were never guards near the towns we passed through, though once or twice we passed what looked to be some sort of jail cart, iron bars thick with grasping hands and ice. Both times I nearly became sick as faces pressed against cold air and metal howled like animals at the open night sky. Both times Edward never moved, never mentioned how close we were to safety.

I could feel my eyes growing heavy with impending exhaustion, my hands lying limply in my lap and the warmth of the coat making me drowsy. Edward continued to stare unseeingly out into the night, his face a blank mask.

_Nap…? That wouldn't be so awful, would it?...Sleep..? No._

I tried to make my eyes focus on anything in the distance for I was determined to not fall asleep. The night was so black around us that when torch lights began bouncing in the distance I started, causing my bag to drop to the floor with a soft thud. Edward made no acknowledgement, merely sat.

They appeared as ghosts out of the night and wispy snow; see how it clung to their hair, but did not melt as it touched their equally frozen bodies. Dark men and resilient women in rags dragging their feet through the snow, children hanging like baggage from their arms and backs, motionless. They came in a group, scattered yet so obviously one band of travelers. A small cart was pulled behind, piled with children asleep, clutching worldly belongings. Their dark hair and olive skin shone under the yellow glow of the torches—gypsy folk, a traveling group of players. Dangerous during the day, deadly if alone at night.

_Ignore them._

_Impossible._

My breathing hitched as those in front took in the richly dressed driver, the carriage, though plain, immaculately cared for. None had appeared on Edward's side, and I made not a sound to alert him, frozen with shock, not chill. Easily they moved forward, and the coach slowed considerably; hands began clawing at the carriage door, which I noticed now had been bolted from the inside.

_Thank the Lord._

The soft scratches made the back of my neck prickle, and the carriage slowed considerably as the waves of cold bodies pressed against us, only a wooden door keeping them out. Whispers and pleas hung like icicles in the frozen air, their sharp edges piercing the silence I had grown accustomed to. I could hear their quiet and steady crescendo, and their faces became sneers pressed against the glass. We had come to a complete stop, and my heart hung desperately in my throat.

"Edward," I breathed, frightened to create noise.

He gave no response, his face turned down to his lap, studiously trying to ignore the crowd and failing; every scratch of hands against the wooden door made his forehead crease and breathing hitch. His hands played anxiously with nothing on his knees.

The faces at the window smiled impishly at my obvious knowledge of entrapment.

"Drive on, _s'il vous plait_," he knocked on the front wall.

Fists pounded on the glass, the lantern on the outside falling and shattering on the icy road.

"Edward!" My voice shook as I scooted forward and nudged his knee, my eyes darting back and forth between the windows. They shook with tapping.

His head snapped up and his eyes searched mine frantically.

We could hear the driver's loud protests and firm orders as he tried to get the people to move outside; his voice began faltering.

I hunched under the coat and played with my hair, biting down on my cheek so hard I tasted blood, my shoulders shaking.

"What do we do, Edward?" I whispered still, turning my face away from the cursing people.

He didn't respond, but shook his head back and forth, nostrils flared and brow scrunched in concentration and resoluteness. He looked pained, but decisive and lost all at once. It was a maddening combination that I couldn't make sense of. I prayed so very hard that he would have an idea…for I had none. As the cries and knocks grew louder I shrank back against the velvet seat, trying to disappear entirely, which only made me that much more visible to glares and focus. The knocks and banging became louder still, and those closest began goading the crowd. My door rattled on its hinges, desperately trying to stay attached. I had no idea what I would do if they got ahold of us, run perhaps. Hide. I could feel tears burning tracks up my throat as Edward sat silently and fidgeted across from me. My eyes burned in small fires, my shoulders already heaving of their own accord.

"Edward…"

"Bella, I don't know…" he glared at the men outside, "I don't know what to do." He ran his hands through his hair and let out a stream of profanities under his breath.

A rough knuckled rapped on the scratched glass.

"Come on then, pretty lass, let us in…"

"We won't hurt you or your gentleman friend."

"Nay, girl, not a finger on either of you two aristos…"

I stared at the window from under my hair. Those closest talked softly, as if to lure prey out from under protection. The man in front made eyes at me, his gold teeth gleaming wickedly in moonlight. I met his eyes as hardly as I could, lifting my chin.

"Isabella, please don't look at them." Edwards hand touched my cheek, and turned my head in to meet his eyes, pleading with them as his jaw twitched in agitation.

Those outside began to upsurge in sound as we refused to meet their eyes, raucous laughter and taunts slipping through the cracks of the door. Seconds turned to years, every noise a gunshot. Fists pounded still, and chunks of ice hitting the windows made me jump. I could feel my heart leaping. Never had I expected this, or I wouldn't have left Paris.

"_Too good for us, are you deary_?"

_Bang, bang…_

Ice and stones pelted the exterior in a demanding fortissimo.

We couldn't just sit here until they got ahold of us. In that second I knew I had to do something, or we would be stuck until another cart passed by, which could be days from now, or until they got through the feeble lock that screeched with tension even now. I set my jaw and fought back the crying, wiping furiously at my face as my heart beat in time with each pounding and wail. It was deafening.

I peeked at Edward, who stared determinedly at the floor, and then the door, then back to Edward. In a movement so fast I still don't know how I did it I wrenched it open, splintering the lock and meeting a wall of flesh that fought to get ahold of me. The crack made the crowd scream even more and Edward jump, as if awakened. My foot met cold air as he grabbed frantically for my arm and I flailed helplessly. The world stopped as I met the sight before me.

_Get back in; get back in, gogogogogogogo, NOW._

Tens of people fought their way forward and seized at my ankle, trying to pull me down. Bloodshot eyes stopped inches away from mine and shook my leg roughly. Screaming so high only the dogs could hear, I grasped for the edge of the door, Edward, anything. My chapped fingers found no purchase, only splinters as I clutched at blunt edges. I could feel nails scraping my shins, bare feet kicking my ankles, and small fingers grappling at my toes. The ground was like a frozen pond beneath my bare heels.

"EDWARD! _EDWARD!_"

Everything beneath my chest scorched with pain, the muscles pull taut, and I was holding on by whitened fingertips. I stared at the black sky, not a star in sight, and a wave of uttermost exhaustion and vast acceptance settled in my bones. Why must I keep fighting? For whom? Not Angela, not I. It hurt to keep on like this, the pulling, the scrambling to stay alive. Not just now, but always. I had no more breath, no more patience for endurance to make an appearance. _I hurt_. Inside and out. And if I let go now, finger by finger, I knew I could be sedated by eternal sleep very easily. I felt my body go limp, limb by limb, and whether it was consciously or unconsciously, I didn't care. My eyes closed and let my grip loosen…

"_ISABELLA!"_

_What? Let me be…_

"_Bella, dammit help me out here!"_

_ Ed..Edward…EDWARD._

I gasped and seized the doorframe, the screaming now more apparent than ever as I felt a pair of strong hands grip my waist.

"Edward….Edward!"

"Dammit Bella! Come on!"

His rough voice was in my ear, his arms around my waist, and I was suddenly a rope in a game of tug of war as my body decided to obey he and not I.

"Kick, Bella! Something! Come on, _I've got you_."

Curses and pleas and yells flew from both sides, fingers digging into my legs as men and women and children tried to pull me from the door frame, pleading for money and me and food and cursing Edward for pulling me and I for existing and our bloody carriage and the King and God knows what else.

"Bloody aristos!"

"Pigs! _You greedy swine!_"

"What a pretty little hag…"

A cobble flew and hit the carriage exterior inches from where I was dangling. And then my ribs.

"DAMMIT!"

My legs burned and screamed as I did, my hair whipped my face and was pulled every which way. I yelped like a wounded dog.

Edward growled loudly, curses after curses flowing like flames from his mouth.

_Fight._

My eyes flew open wide as the pain became a monstrosity and I knew in that instant that I was going to win or God help me I would make sure every one of them suffered. Every damn person.

I kicked and yelled and scratched, my feet flailing wildly and pushing at anything. Edward pulled and pulled, and I could feel their grips becoming looser and looser as each kick met jaw and chest and arm alike. I tasted blood in my mouth and I hurt, but the energy pulsing through made it less and so I kept on. Knees hit faces, elbows noses and chests and people. They dropped like boulders… And suddenly I…I was free! It could have been a second, an hour, and I pushed back against Edward and fell into the carriage, grabbing the door and holding it tight with my hands. I felt no pain as adrenaline surged through my ligaments and my entirety to my fingertips.

"Drive! _Drive!"_

Fists banged against the windowpanes and Edward appeared beside me, his knuckles turning white has he held the door shut from the greedy hands of the peasants, the lock cluttering brokenly against the door.

"Go! Drive, man!"

The driver yelled and I could hear the horses huffing and pushing against the onslaught of people, and steadily the carriage began to move, bouncing and rolling. Things crunched under the weight of us and I never desire to know what they were. My grip was steadfast on the door handle as stronger stragglers tried to latch themselves on and shook with each turn of the wheels, trying to wrench it open. Hooves pounded like boulders against gravel and dirt and many other things and all at once there was nothing but a group of people and torches behind us, scattered and broken, swearing and sprinting like mad men but never fast enough. I could not free my fingers, and stared behind us, my neck refusing to turn my head and my chest heaving.

And I was so tired suddenly, and tears ran freely down my face, and I could still not move of my own accord, my body going limp and falling back against him, and I sobbed achingly. Hyperventilated. But my eyes would not close, body not move, and where the stones had hit burned like wildfire and ice all at one. My jaw refused to work and my arms folded themselves over my chest tightly, binding me together where nothing else could. The tears came accompanied by wails and sniffs and harsh breathing accented by hiccups and whimpers.

I could feel Edward breathing slowly and shakily against my back, his arms going around my unmoving form.

"Don't you dare do that again, Isabella. Ever. Don't you dare." His voice was dark and dangerous, broken and heavy all at once. His arms tightened around me, his head resting atop mine and his body shaking slightly.

And I did not care that the door threatened to open at any time, did not mind that I was staining his coat with my saltwater tears as he rocked me gently back and forth in his arms in time with the cantering of the carriage, I did not have a care. Because he was holding me together and I knew that I was safe here.

"Never again," he turned me in his arms and brushed my hair that was sticking to my teary face away, "What on earth, Bella, _what in God's name were you thinking_?" He breathed.

I hissed as his arm brushed against where I had been struck, and he froze before hurriedly loosening his grip and touching my chin to face him.

My eyes wouldn't move and the tears continued to fall, my breathing come out in shallow hiccups.

"Bella, where did they h-hit you. Tell me so I can help. Please. I need to know."

I shook my head and hiccupped before groaning as it jolted my torso. I couldn't stand that his voice broke.

"Isabella." He begged.

I looked up at him and his eyes were wide and full of emerald fire. But I said nothing, and I didn't think I could.

Furrowing his brow, he lifted me easily and set me down on the seat so I was only semi-sitting, unwrapping his coat from my death grip. His eyes searched me from my toes to my face, eyes widening and jaw tightening as he took his my bloody feet and bruised legs, torn trousers, torn shirt, and tear stained face.

He grabbed the drapes from the windows and tore them, the sound of it breaking the silence like a wave, before slowly wrapping them tightly around my feet without a word. I know he was trying to be careful, and I bit my cheek to not cry out but I must have made a noise as the rough fabric met my raw skin because his eyes flashed up to mine and his fingers were stroking my cheeks in a second, trying to calm me.

"_Shhh, shhh_….I'll be more careful,"

He finished tying the fabric before glaring at my stomach and then glancing up at me oddly before clearing his throat. Shaking his head, he ran his hands through his hair and straightened his back.

"I…can I look at…at your ribs?" his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink and he looked so adorably awkward that I giggled before uncontrolled tears ran down my cheeks at the pain the jostling caused. I settled for nodding as a safe response.

He grabbed a chunk of ice that had landed in the coach and wrapped it in the remaining drapes before slowly moving up the hem of my shirt on one side. My face flushed. He growled darkly at the black splotches and set the ice down on the bruises I could see forming already before bringing my shirt back down as quickly as possible.

"I don't know what else to do…your ribs," he ran his fingers over where the ice was, "they could be broken…but I don't know. Carlisle will look at them…my father." I looked up at him and was met with a small, crooked smile before his face contorted into a frustrated expression and he kneeled on the floor next to the seat, touching his hand to my hair.

"I should have done something, Bella. I'm so very sorry, so very…I didn't know you would…I thought…You have to promise me you won't do something so rash again. I beg you. Slap me, scream and yell and curse, but _God…_for…for your sake, and my sanity, don't put yourself into danger when I can do something. I was so _stupid_…"

He trailed of and met my eyes steadily before they turned soft.

"I will never let this happen again. Ever. You _will _be safe with me. I swear on it. Never again, Bella."

But it had not been his fault, for_ I _had been the one about to give up…

_Oh God…_

And now the question lingered…what if I had. This was my entire fault and he was blaming _himself_. I had to fix this, because he must see how much of a burden I am or else he'll regret being so close to me one day and then I will break when he leaves. I was not going to allow him to blame himself after I had had been ready to give up so readily that I had made this more difficult for him than it should have been. My irresponsibility had caused his pain and mine.

I tried to sit up and winced as I felt every bend of every part of my torso; my throat burned with tears again and I tried to stop them but they rolled like weights down my face. And Edward was there, pushing me back down to the seat and wiping at my face frantically, looking very confused.

"No, no, no. Please don't…exert yourself and hurt yourself more. I can't stand it. I'll beg and stay awake all night if I have to, but don't you dare move, Isabella."

His eyes were aglow like embers and his voice was laced with gentle warning.

I grimaced and went limp, opening my mouth to complain before he laid his hand over it.

"No talking either. That definitely counts as exertion, especially with you." He smiled slightly, eyes crinkling.

He could tell when I gave up and sat down on the ground next to me, laying his hand on my hair. I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing but him if I were being honest with myself.

I could feel my breathing slowing as he started humming softly, something unrecognizable. I settled into the warm velvet, willing my heart to slow down. We sat unmoving for what could have been hours, neither one of us talking. Every time we went over a bump he stopped humming and brushed away the tears that fell.

All I knew was Edward, and for the time I was home. Tomorrow held no bearing and the carriage could have ridden for as long as it wanted and I would not have had a care. For I could now see that I had gotten in too deep and there was no turning back, for he was just as gone as I. The qualms that had upset my heart vanished, and I only dreamed of what could be. The revolution could change everything, and it held the relationship on the balance of a blade. Within the new ideals and life that had been set upon us, I could find solace or destitute lonesomeness. There had to be a choice, but now was not the time. Reality held no meaning any longer; it had been a folly for so long that I had been lying to myself to get by.

"Its…s'not your…fault, you know. Could've 'appened to...anyone." I mumbled sheepishly, ignoring the leap of pain in my side.

Edward paused abruptly and ran his hand over my hair before he began humming again, forcing my eyes to droop sleepily. The snow cushioned the galloping of the horses to a soft beat and made a light pattering like a rainfall on the roof. I could feel myself falling asleep, and unconsciously let my face rest in the palm of his hand.

_Mmmmmm…._

As my eyes fell like drapes across my eyes, his face was painted like a masterpiece behind my lids, and as I slept on, it was he I dreamed of, not my father, James, nor dearest Bette.

"_Sleep, mon cher coeur, ma Bella…"_

**Soooo, before you yell at me and all for being late AGAIN—awful me—any thoughts? I hope you semi-enjoyed it at least! I feel like the gypsy part might have gone too quickly, or oddly, but hey. Reviews always help with that. I will TRYTRYTRYTRY to get the next one up. It hasn't been started, but I will soon…I've had a lot of family problems as of late, and schools starting soon so I have to get this god-awful reading done. I just don't like Steinbeck—will they never learn? I wish it was Tolstoy or something. Anyhoozer, hope you're all having a fantastic week! Be a dear and press that lil' button down there! Ttfn **

**P.S. "mon cher Coeur, ma Bella" means "my dear heart, my Bella" according to Google Translate. If I, or Google, is getting any of this wrong, please let me know (I take lovely espa****ñ****ol) sooo I wouldn't know. Thank ya!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: I don't own Twilight, these lovely characters, or any part of history. Excuse me while I go be really sad now **

**Ok this time, come at me with pitchforks and torches. I deserve it. I've actually been gradually working on this for all this time, isn't that depressing? NO MORE HIATUS. ITS DONE. I will be updating more now. Junior year is a bitch, guys. Beware, if I have any readers that young. But the ACT is done, the AP testing is done…ok gotta take those SAT Subject tests but let's be real…I'm taking at least one on history. No but seriously, no more school until September…Senior year! More AP and more lovely work. I just got back from visiting colleges on the East Coast, doing summer AP Spanish homework and reading books for AP World Lit (that part I really enjoyed, so sue me. Love me some Bronte and Shakespeare ) I typed the last…8 pages of this sitting in the back of my dad's car…I think he thinks I'm nuts typing away for this long. But I had Arnie Palmer and Reese's pieces for sustenance. It's all good. So Yale and College of William and Mary were the favorites… (no snow at that last one…so that would be hard.) ANYHOOZER enough about my boring, education filled life. Besides applications, softball games, and friends I will be painting and writing for all you…if you stayed with me. The last year has been extremely hard on my family and my education, however I hope you will read this update and not hate me too much. Life's gettin better Enjoy and ****PLEASE**** listen to the song at least once while reading this. He's a local guy, and I love his music! I had it on repeat the entire time I was writing. It's very very good. (That or I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie.) ok go read! **

Chapter 9

"_So underneath the concrete sky_

_Lucy puts her hand in mine._

_She says life's a game we're meant to lose,_

_Stick by me and I will stick by you." _

_A Girl, a Boy, and a Graveyard—Jeremy Messersmith_

Sharp pains brought me back from sleep as I became acutely aware of murmuring and gasps filling the air. I felt as if I was under a bubble, like those drifting in the Seine back in the city; the world was a blurry mess of night, faces, and bobbing lights. I fought to make my way to the surface but as my sides were jostled, prodded, and lifted my lungs expanded in an overwhelming intake of breath that weighed my body down. Cold fingers touched equally chilled cheekbones as if to brush away tears. Through the numbness I was only aware of a deep, warm voice breathing in the shell of my ear.

"Isabella?" it echoed …a voice I should know, the fervent tenor swaddling me in comfort… "Isabella? Bella?"

I felt him move further away, as if called. The muted voices around me grew urgent as more lights swam in my bubble; I was briefly reminded of the cathedral around the holidays of the saints.

My fingers twitched in thin air; trying to find the strength to pull him back to me to gain recognition was almost futile. Gritting my teeth, I tensed, focusing in on my hand, trying…grasping…

Where cold fingers had met my face before, they now held my hand still as the source of the voice hovered over my face with urgency.

"Bella?"

Forcing myself to blink again and again to regain sight, I found pools of green waiting to drown me. Their brightness reflected back in the surrounding candlelight, highlighting the affectionate anxiety that deepened the furrow of his brow. The urgency that lit them was astonishing: beckoning, bright…it brought me back. My eyes flitted back and forth like a cornered animal, fear naturally subduing the climbing pain.

"E-E-Edward?" My voice was sharpened iron shavings coming up my throat as I coughed. A moan sounded before I registered that it was my own, reverberating as I continued to be moved. Without seconds passing, his fingers and hands were stroking my face once more, calming.

"Shh…shh. You _will_ be alright. I promise you…shh…shh. Carlisle is waiting up in an empty chamber…my brothers are just helping me get you there. Just breathe, _ma belle._"

Nothing registered other than his quieting tone as I attempted to at least do as he instructed, shutting my eyes against the small lights that danced in and before them. Moaning again, I clenched my jaw as my head throbbed heavier than Notre Dame's cathedral bells, always ringing and heaving.

"Edward…"it was a croak…a whisper, "Edward, _I hurt_."

"Bella _shhh_…I promise it will be better soon. You have to trust me, please. Please Bella." It was a hoarse, broken begging, and my heart ached in a way that was becoming exceedingly familiar.

My brow scrunched in concentration as the sharp tick of agony throbbed in my bones. Momentarily forgetting the comfort I had found in my savior, I arched my back against the pain. I longed to scream and tell them how it burned; couldn't they see how I was writhing? Aching?

_Dammitdammitdammit…._

I vaguely heard the swishing of night clothes with moth-wing lightness draw near, disturbing the once again numbing mist that was encasing my mind.

"Edward, wha—" a girl's alarming whisper was cut off with a clear of the throat from ahead of me. I felt the incline of stairs and groaned as my body involuntarily slipped to accommodate it. Hushed, harsh instructions followed thereafter:

_"Mary Alice, please, go upstairs with Rose…Esme..could..would you?"_

_ "But-"_

A softer tone stopped her, perhaps their mother.

_"Alice, do as your brother asks."_

A huff of breath and soft foot-steps answered the request.

The burning sensation in my abdomen, head, and entire being continued to crescendo and I let my grip on consciousness slip.

_So easy…soft…_

"No, no Bella! Stop…come back," Edward held my face in his palms, forcing me to meet his gaze as I was pulled away. "Stay here, just a little longer now. I need you to stay awake, _chere._"

He mumbled harshly to those around him, and I felt as though we were flying now. I was jostled around as we ascended flight after flight of stairs, the air around my chilling my bare skin. Black spots danced as I groaned, clutching at my ribs. My hair was held away from my face when I flinched.

"Get Carlisle, _now_." It was a growl, low and serious.

Footsteps pattered, echoing around like rain. My breath was coming out in gasps, the feeling in my legs scratching and slicing its way down to my toes. I was lifted gently; the coarse fabric of whatever I had been on being exchanged for something that reminded me of what heaven must be like. Reds swam in my vision, my bubble of colors dimming with candlelight. The loud bang of a door being opened snapped me out of the misty trance of slight comfort, the sound banging around in my head as a trapped animal would.

"Edward, wha—" an older man's question was cut off immediately.

"Carlisle, we were attacked. I don't have the time or the _fucking patience_ to explain now," Edward ground out his sentences, "I think she broke a rib…I don't… I don't know! There were these…these ice chunks…maybe a brick… and these gypsies scratching, and pulling, and…just, dear God. I can't…Just help her!" his breathing became harsh as he collapsed onto the bed, rattling my body.

"Dammit!" it came out as a strangled cry, my throat dry. The deluge of tears coming out of my eyes soaked my face, plastering my hair there. There was no time to be embarrassed about my language, not when knives were dancing a quadrille through my muscles.

"Oh god…" Edward groaned painfully, "_Dammit_ I can't do anything right! _Dammit…_I'm sorry, _ma Belle_…shh…._dammit_.." he moved away my hair as a long string of obscenities was replaced by whispered hushes.

I felt a prick in my arm as Edward continued to breathe apologies in my ear; a cool liquid seeped heavily through my body and I felt leaden.

"Of course I'm staying, Carlisle," he sounded so far away… "Just…just help her. Please…"

Edward's soft voice lulled my mind into tranquility as I lost focus on reality while each facet of my body let go into the plush world of abyss and dreams. The heavy sensation that pushed its way was a welcome intrusion; I felt myself become dead weight, as if I hadn't been limp enough already. The knives stilled for an intermission, and the burning sloughed out by an invisible wave. A hand, which I silently prayed was Edward's, touched my face lightly once more and brushed the hair out of my face before the dark, velvet comfort of blackest sleep came again.

It was the stiffness of my every ligament that pushed me into consciousness. I felt heavy, weighed down by some immeasurable gravity permeating by muscles. The warm environment I was surrounded in was a fake heaven, starkly contrasting the inner slow burn that slid as oil does to each limb. My conscious grappled with the dregs of sleep, attempting to sedate the returning rustles of rusty aches like rum to an old drunk. There had been no nightmarish recollections of the carriage, only deep and caressing rest. The light behind my eyelids now was a soft glow, different from the starkness of before. It beckoned me further away from the nothingness of unconsciousness. The heady, weighty aroma of roses covered an underlying, increasingly sterile scent. I grimaced as my ribs slashed away the last of my inner peace; I must have made a noise because within seconds there was Edward, stroking my hair for signs of imminent distress.

"Hush once more, _ma belle_. All is safe…you are safe now," the slight upturn of a smile appeared when our eyes met, "Hush and be still—I'll take care of you, if you will permit it. You are in no condition to go about as you once did at the present…I beg you to let me keep you here as a precaution, if nothing else."

So earnest and tender was his tone that I felt as if I sunk deeper in the depths of comfort, leaning into his touch and trying to forget the demanding pangs of harsh aches in my body. I dared not speak for fear of awakening the monster that had burned before throughout. Instead, I merely nodded as much as my current state permitted, trying to turn the apparent grimace on my face to something of a smile in return.

Edward's eye brightened considerably at my acquiescence, a genuine grin of ease, perhaps even excitement, lighting his brooding countenance. The seeping of some cool sedative calmed me once more, climbing into my body by Edward's administration through a needle I refused to look at.

I blinked groggily, and realized I had been changed…

_Oh. My. God. What if Edward did it? …_

"Um…Edward…what am I wearing?" I scratched my eyebrow in an awkward gesture, looking up at him with questions in my eyes.

He snickered, though the sound was warm and light.

"Yes...Alice and Esme thought you would be…_ahem_…more comfortable in that. They, well, they dressed you in one of Alice's old underthings…I hope that's alright. Your _trousers_," he smirked, "and shirt were pretty torn up. I wasn't here…I did not see anything if that's what you're worried about. I would _never_ take advantage." His expression was one of sincerity.

"Oh."

_Brilliant, Bella. _

He smiled slightly.

"I can give them my gratitude when I see them, but thank you too Edward. It means so much that you've put so much effort into making _me_ comfortable. You can only imagine."

"Of course I will make you comfortable, Bella. Your happiness is what I want." I felt my face warm as I leaned into him to rest.

I tried not to worry, for the moment, what would be said of the family harboring a homeless peasant; far more drastic things had happened as of recent in the towns around than such an event. Poor Angela did not register in my selfish consideration to stay with the Cullens, far away from the upheaval of Paris and the sad reality of my existence. For now all I cared was that I was staying with Edward, whether out of his pity or true thoughts for my well-being it did not matter. I would take advantage simply because I found that as time went on, I could not stay away from this man. There was no power in me to resist his kindness, conversation, or offered safety any longer. It had begun to take more effort to stay away from him than I was willing to give up, and I found that the mere thought of refusing his help and care caused me more physical, mental, and emotional trauma than any physical accident could do. I had not the will power to refuse him anymore, or he for I.

His hand cradled my face gently and I snuggled into the bed more, forgetting the creaking of my stiff limbs and bones. Perhaps he had seen the anxiety in my expression.

"You are safe here, and no one can take you away. There will be no more gypsies, no more drunkards prowling the corners, and no more nights freezing on that god forsaken river. The _sans-culotte _cannot get us here in the country, I am sure. We…_I_…will not be taken from you, nor you from I," he rubbed his thumb to smooth my brow and to maybe assure himself of our safety as well, "They are taking in those in Paris who are not deemed worthy. I would not have you leave me for the grips of hell, Bella. _Citizen _Robespierre in power like a hungry monster, a creature terrible to us all. I shan't have you troubled with worrisome stories, _ma belle_. I want you to know the truth, but to also be assured of your safety with me…always."

The imagined faces of my family in the tumbrels brought protests to my mind…surely he could not be so hopeful. He _was_ the aristocracy, and they were gone for merely associating with those in his class.

I frowned and began to question him, but his gentle fingers covered my lips.

_The aristocracy is gone…this is insanity. _

"I beg you to rest, and to not trouble yourself with things that are inconceivable and superfluous. I _will not_ leave you, I swear it. There is time later to talk of the troublesome realities in the city, and time later to express concerns that do not pertain to your current wellbeing. For my sake and sanity, if not your own, rest and be at peace. We are far from Paris and many times safer than anything in those frozen streets. We have bread, candles, and a house of caring and trustworthy people. I promise you safety and ease, Bella." He smiled gently and leaned back against the grand headboard, though it seemed perhaps indecent for him to rest to easily next to me in this state.

I pushed myself up with the aid of his arm and looked up at his angular face, gasping as my ribs protested. I realized I would have to be happy leaning against his forearm and the pillows. The violence of the previous night seemed far away and I couldn't find it in me to be alarmed, frightened, or surprised; some sort of impenetrable blockage existed that pushed the memory away. The energy it took to recall it was much easier spent attempting to move and so I focused on half-sitting rather than reliving the assault.

_Let's not forget that Edward has temporarily gone insane. Safe. There is nowhere in France that is safe. _

I sighed and wheezed when my lungs ached.

His eyes betrayed the anxiety he felt at my movement and he clutched at my upper arms, bringing me to him.

"Bella…Oh Bella…shhh…just stay as you are. I've got you…" he brushed my hair away from my face and held me softly as I leaned against his broad form.

Dropping my gaze to the blanket clutched between my fingers and tried to relax against him. I breathed in deeply, smelling him…sunshine, cloves…there was that woodsy smell again… it was everything that was calming, warm, and good.

"I thank you for your help, in all sincerity and gratitude Edward," I started softly taking courage from his calming scent and peeked up at him, "I realize that I would be very near death now if not for you. Tisn't anything new to be in harm's way, but that you saved me means the world and beyond."

I paused again to take in a gulp of air. My head throbbed negligibly and I steadied myself before continuing.

"But Edward," it was a whisper, "I can't ask you to put you and your family at risk by staying here with me. Surely you should follow in the footsteps of so many of your stature and flee, to Metz if nowhere else. I had heard the King was headed there…it has to be safer than staying to watch someone who, if in her right mind, should be against you and everything you stand for…"

I saw his frightened glance and quickly tried to fix it, "Not that I am! Not that I am…dear God of course I couldn't hate you, silly man. But you _must_ see what I mean. What…what if they come to hurt you?" I asked in a breath, "What if they burn your belongings, your home…they'll bring pikes, Edward! By God they'll bring pikes, and fire, and everything that is dangerous and bad in the world! By staying here you are welcoming them, and no matter how much wine and bread you may put at the gate to placate them night after night, the mob will not stay at bay for long. I have heard too, from those in the city, of the hysterics they are reduced to. I could not…_would not_ bear it if you were hurt. Hurt or…or…" I choked on my words before he wrapped me in his arms.

The tears came hot and wet down my face, staining the fine linens and his collar.

"Think of the Bastille, Edward. Of the Governor who was murdered...of your neighbors who, in all their finery have been harmed, have perished. You must not think like this. You _will not_ be hurt because of me." It was whispered harshly, my vow to keep him safe. I let the tears fall silently as he held me. His breathing lifted his chest under my cheek, his heart pumping strong and true as we sat in the quite of the night.

_He has taken care of you, Bella. You must take care of him…make him go to safety._

My mind and…oh God…my _heart_ rebounded painfully against such thoughts.

I had no idea where the rest of his family was, perhaps asleep. The sky pulsed a color darker than pitch from behind the thick brocade curtains. I saw now how rich the room was that I had been so carefully rushed to: the thick mahogany wood working on the furniture with elaborate carvings, reminiscent of the Baroque style the permeated the court of the Sun King, long gone but still remembered in rich décor. In my pain I had not noticed the wall was colored a darkened shade of wine showing age and with faint flowering patterns in the paper, edged at the top by more wood and small, golden intricacies. The aged, dark stone floor was hidden by heavy carpets that matched the walls, their patterns sewn in similar colors and shapes with hints of purples, greens, and all that were rich and alluring. I nestled further into Edward's chest and he hummed in approval as I continued my gaze around the room, taking in the display of wealth.

_A display that will kill them. Come now, Isabella. _

A high fireplace and mantel sat opposite of the bed, made of both wood and stone. A glorious Caravaggio hung immaculately above, depicting a dark haired beauty of a boy. Trinkets of age and antiquity sat everywhere, and the dominating bookshelves pleased me immensely. The classics were seated quite carefully next to those of enlightened thought and the _politiques_.

_They are forward thinking…perhaps…no._

I sighed in my frustration at the beauty of the room in candlelight, the colors reminding me of the expensive, thick paints which I coveted so dearly, the colors each their own enigma. Edward seemed to notice that I was caught in rapture of the space as he chanced a glance down at my face. His eyes turned soft as he nudged me to look at him.

"I thought you would like this room when I brought you here. It…" he paused, "it was my late mother's room. She…well she died when I was but a boy. I took it after her passing; I knew when you came to this estate it would please you." His face looked thoughtful for a moment as he rubbed the back of his neck, light red climbing softly of his cheekbones, "I…well I am giving it to you as long as you please. This house will be mine when Carlisle and Esme take another home or pass...Emmett didn't want it merely because it's the country chateau. I thought that, therefore, it would not be such a big deal to the others that I gave you this. I hope that's alright, Bella."

_You don't deserve this_.

My eyes went wide as I glanced around again, stunned into silence. Raking my glance over every piece and curvature I saw how large, how beautiful it was. The medical supplies on a low stand alluded to the smell I had picked up on earlier, but no matter. I was in no position to complain…_ I had my own room_. A roof, promises of safety, warmth, _a bed_, and…and well I had Edward.

_Damn the regime. Damn them for wanting to take my solace away. _

I pictured Citizen Robespierre in a red haze, hating him and all he stood for.

_Liberty, equality and fraternity be sent to the deepest pits and bowels of hell. _

Edward must have mistaken my silence, for he became to ramble and brought me out of my hatred, "If you don't desire such a space, I'm sure I can give you something else. There are so many rooms in the estate…Esme has made many of them transcendent…I am so sorry for assuming Bella, so stupid of me. I was just…well I was trying to…never mind. You may have whatever you choose, whatever you so desire. Forgive—"

I clamped my hand over his mouth and slowly kissed his cheek, my own burning in shock. His stubble scratched gently at my skin, the smell of him calming my racing heart. I dropped my gaze immediately and then looking back up, met his shocked stare before thinking that perhaps equality would not be so bad.

"Edward, don't hurt yourself, come now," it was a soft breath, fervent, "Thank you. Thank you beyond words. I…I never thought…but Edward, this was _yours_. It was your _mother's. _I've already imposed terribly…I—"

He cut my off with his own hand, and I giggled lightly. Cocking his brow, he grinned back.

"Bella I _want_ you to have it, for as long as it makes you happy. I will not take no for an answer if _that's_ your reasoning." He chuckled, "Oh Bella…"

Shaking his head, he reached for me. I hugged his yet again surprised form tightly and ignored my sore body, beaming a smile into his shoulder.

"Sorry," I whispered, "I seem to be running the gamut of emotions today…" pausing, I turned to look at him, "Thank you, Edward. I—I owe you all of my gratitude, if that could possibly be enough."

"Silly girl," he admonished, tucking me under his chin again, "Of course it is enough. It will always be enough, _ma chere._"

_Equality._

For how long we sat, just breathing, I am unsure. The night ran its course, tucked behind the glass that kept the cold out for now. Cream colored candles melted in their dishes, letting the balmy aroma of tallow wax and smoke coat the room in a translucent shade. Neither of us fell asleep, or closed our eyes. Sitting and thinking in one another's arms was better than sleep tonight. And think I did. I remembered the lonely nights, sitting at James' home, far away now. The cold, sharp feeling of acute loneliness and disgust at every pastel drapery and lace shoved at me. I saw the small face of Bette peering up from under a down coverlet, her eyes speaking of thoughts light and fleeting. It was a common look from all girls, no matter their age. I thought of the sadness I had felt at her innocence and unspoiled outlook on the world. She felt no longing for the family that was not really anything but a collection of related people with a common name. She did not miss the affection that I had so desperately craved. The Bette under the blanket became a new Bette peering out from the tumbrel, a waifish phantom of a girl…

_"Isabella," she reached out, dropping her scrap of a doll through the bars, "Please, Isabella."_

_ I cringed at the creaking and groaning of the cart, like old bones shifting in the catacombs. _

_ "Sissy…maman and papa want to see you, please," tiny white fingers grasped at the empty air in front of me, mere meters away, "We miss you so much…come with us…come with us…" her whispered pleases echoed around the open space, planting themselves in my head._

_ Tears ran down her small, pouting cheeks as she sobbed, her shoulder bones stretching her thin frame. I couldn't look away, I couldn't even move. My lips parted to answer…to assure her of her safety. The ground below my feet ran red and I heard the whooping of an encouraging crowd in the next street. Gutters steamed with what the guillotine offered up, and there was little Bette in her cage, crying out and alone. _

_ "Bette…Bette please…"_

_ Her eyes snapped to mine, a new mixture of revulsion and hatred clouding the innocent brown that had drowned me in sorrow. _

_ "You left me." Her small face became a gruesome glare, teeth bared she grasped the rust stained and ice coated bars in adolescent fists, jerking at them, hissing, "You left me with them! We're here because of you! You deserve to be in this place, not me. You're going to be my death, Sissy."_

_ I gasped and shuddered violently as this…this creature accused me. This snarling imp that had replaced my sweet, baby sister…"No, I never left you…No, Bette…"_

_ "Lies. All such lies…we never wanted you and still look at what you've done to me." _

_ A man grabbed her around the waist as she clung to the bars, the sky dark around us, the streets hot with blood. _

_ I was panting now, but could not move._

_ "You're next." She grinned as the blade was released and flew, so very slowly, so very heavily down onto her tiny frame…_

_ I collapsed and sobbed, screamed…I was torn apart, burning…_

_ "Bette…Bette…"_

"Bella! Bella!"

_"Bette…"_

"Bella! Isabella!" My eyes raced open and darted around the room, duck bringing in light through the heavy panes of glass.

"Don't do this to me, come on, sweet girl, come back to me…Bella!" They flew to Edward who was holding my face in his hands, his eyes wild and afraid.

My breath came out in pants as he stroked my cheeks with shuddering fingers.

"Ed-Ed-Edward?" I whisper, my voice shaking palpably.

"Shh…Shh dearest. It's only a dream…I've got you now." He folded me tightly into his embrace as I shook, my heart thumping loudly in my ribs, "I've got you, _ma belle_…You're safe here…always…shh…"

He rocked me back and forth until my body stilled and wrapped me gently into the mass of down blankets, resting my head on his chest again.

"Do you want to talk about any of…that, Bella?" nudging my chin up so I could meet his eyes Edward ran his fingers along my jaw.

I stared at him for a moment and shook my head, desiring to try and forget, no matter how unhealthy.

"I…no I cannot. I…" my voice choked off.

He brought my face down to rest on his chest again, stroking my hair lightly.

"It's alright; Bella….it's going to be alright. I promise you…you're safe right here, always." He repeated the promises he had been making throughout the night, tightening his arms around me.

As the dusky pink of the sky settled around us, I only hoped that he was right. But, even then, Bette's words continued to haunt me:

"_You're next."_

**There it is folks! Sorry if the dream was a little…weird? It just kind of came out while I was typing, and I liked it so I kept it! Thoughts, dislikes, likes, comments, ideas, anything…press that gorgeous lil' blue button down yonder and post a review. The more reviews the faster I post! Promise! (Ok my promises suck but this time I'll prove to you that I really DO promise!) Ttfn. I'm going to try not to melt my Midwest butt off now…geesh it's hot here. Xxxx**

**PS. If you have any song suggestions, all are welcome! Preferably stuff similar to Death Cab for Cutie, Rufus Wainwright, Regina Spektor, Fiona Apple, etc. Gracias!**


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